Mayday Parker, Spider Girl
by Tokoyo
Summary: Mayday Parker is fifteen years old when she discovers the truth about her missing father, Peter Parker. But there are other people in New York besides innocent bystanders...who aren't pleased with the thought of a new hero in town...
1. Chapter One: Inheritance

Chapter One

_Missing Osborn Will Recovered!_

by JERRY MASON  
Daily Bugle

The seven-year scandal of the missing Osborn will finally came to an end yesterday when a disgruntled Quest Aerospace spokesman announced that the will of Norman Osborn, the founder of the company and noted research scientist has been discovered in none other than the company's vault. Osborn, who died of unknown causes on November 30, 1995, was reputed to have willed his entire fortune and company ownership to his only son, Harold Osborn, then aged eight years. A federal investigation was launched one month after his death when the will mysteriously vanished, along with all related documents. At the time, Quest, Inc., then named OsCorp, was the leading supplier of technology to the United States military. Inside sources then reported that the company was in fact planning a merger with a former rival company which is no longer in business today. One investigator openly declared, "The will would prove that the board members actually had no right to a merger without full ownership of the company. I find its disappearance at this particular time to be extremely suspicious." However, the will's recovery now legally names Harold Osborn, now aged fifteen and a sophomore at Midtown High School, as one of the legal owners of Quest, Inc. when he comes of age at twenty, along with several billion dollars "held" by Quest, Inc. Osborn, who, despite his dark hair already bears a striking resemblance to his father, has been living in a subdivision of Queens with his maternal aunt Mrs. Elizabeth McKay for the past seven years, and was unavailiable for comment.

I dropped the newspaper onto the cafeteria table and gaped at my best friend in astonishment. "Harry Osborn, are you insane?"

"I probably will be eventually, with all of this junk dumped on me," Harry grumbled. "Oh, yeah, there's nothing I like better than being shoved in a suit and forced to shake hands with a bunch of people who gypped me out of this stuff to begin with."

I sat back and tried to picture Harry in a suit. It didn't work.

"What are you so upset about?" I continued, "This is fantastic! You've got your old house back and everything!"

Harry groaned and poured the cafeteria goo of the day from his spoon to the tray with a splatter. "I don't want my old house back, Mayday. Everything was fine until those lawyers started messing around. I was okay. Hey, you know, school, the car, skateboarding once in a while..."

"Oh, yeah. The car." I brushed my hair out of my face. Both of us were fifteen, and nowhere near getting driver's licenses, especially in New York City. But Harry had dilligently been taking his aunt's old car apart for months, piece by piece, claiming the whole time that he'd be able to put it back together. He loved mechanical things.

I adjusted my glasses. Harry had the grouchiest expression I had ever seen on his face. "What does your aunt think of this?"

"She's ecstatic." Harry stirred his peas around with his fork. "She was calling moving companies this morning."

I shoveled my uneaten lunch back into the paper sack. "Park Avenue, Harry. Park Avenue! Now you don't have to worry about money or anything!" I simply couldn't understand what was he so upset about. Now he wouldn't have to worry about getting an after-school job, or scholarships, or practically anything!

I know, I know, money won't get you friends, or stop your little brother from being bullied at school, or even bring your father back from wherever he's gone. But at least Harry and his aunt would stop struggling to make ends meet. The idea of that kind of immense wealth suddenly dropped at Harry's feet was astounding.

"The last time I was in that house was right after...after my dad died. That is the last place I want to live." Harry dumped the contents of his tray into the trash can at the end of the table.

A sudden fear struck me. Seven years ago, Harry had come to live with his aunt and transferred to the Queens Borough Elementary School. He had attended a fancy private school in Manhattan when he had lived with his father. "You're not going to have to go to one of those ritzy private schools, are you?" I asked.

Harry looked disgusted. "Oh, no. Those jerks can try all they want to turn me into Osborn the Younger, but they can't make me transfer. You think- "

The bell rang.

I sat on the metal bench of the lowest bleacher, staring at my shoelaces. The ground was damp. Midtown High School was in the middle of New York City, hemmed in by skyscrapers that towered like canyon walls. The sports field was barely even a field, only a black, quarter-mile rubber track circling a few patches of scrubby grass and dirt.

"So, is it true?"

"Hmm?" I looked up. Pele Kaiele, Amy Thompson, and Megan Falhoul, three other girls on the team, stood in front of me. Pele was nice; we were pretty good friends. I didn't know Megan all that well, and Amy and I had never gotten along. Amy Thompson was the type who would only talk to me if she wanted me to do her math homework for her.

"Come on, Mayday, you know!" All three of them sat down next to me. "Harry Osborn! He was on the news today!" Pele said.

"He was on the news?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, you know, the whole billionaire stuff," said Amy. "He had to have told you! I mean, you are friends, aren't you?"

"He did tell me!" I said, feeling a little defensive.

"Well?" asked Megan.

"Well what?"

"Details!"

I stared between the three of them, not sure of what to do. I knew Harry well enough to know that he hadn't talked about this for a reason, and I didn't want to go broadcasting his life to them. Megan Falhoul had the biggest mouth in the sophomore class.

"Um...he didn't tell me much," I said.

I was met with three very skeptical looks.

"Oh, get real," Amy said impatiently. I raised an eyebrow. "How much money did he get? You have to know all about it."

"Well, maybe _I_ have to know, but why do you?" I said. How should I know how much money it was? That was Harry's business, and no one else's.

Amy glared at me and opened her mouth, but Pele elbowed her in the side. "She's right. That's nobody's business."

A sharp whistle burst through the air. "Girls! Hurry up and get on the track! What are you waiting for? Move, move, move!"

"Coming, Coach!" I scrambled off the bleachers and got into my position in the outside lane. The rubber track was wet and slippery under my sneakers. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance.

My eighth period was reserved for track team practice. The girls' track coach, known only as Coach, was a short, squat, middle-aged woman in a track suit, who, despite her appearance, claimed that she had run the marathon just three months ago.

I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. It was September, and it wasn't cold. I figeted in the outside lane. It was a relay, and the runner in the outside lane was the last to hold the baton. It meant a full quarter-mile sprint, and I sighed mentally at the thought. I didn't feel up to it, for some reason.

"Okay, girls, you know the routine! Kaiele, inside lane, get ready! Lowman, second! Cormier, third! Parker, don't conserve, I want an all-out sprint! And...Parker, are you all right?"

I shivered again. The lane divisions on the track wavered like heat waves in my vision. I blinked.

"I...I'm fine, Coach." I wished she would stop shouting. It was making my ears ring.

Coach eyed me suspiciously, then said, "All right." She clenched the whistle between her teeth, yelling, "On my whistle! Three! Two! One! _Tweeeee!_"

Pele Kaiele snatched the baton and was running. Thunder growled again. Cold sweat soaked my collar. My stomach lurched.

_Tweeee_! The baton was in the second lane. I couldn't recognize the runner. The track bobbed up and down like ocean waves. I sucked in a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut. Was I getting sick?

_Tweeee!_ Third lane. I was next.

My knees trembled. The wind gusted.

_Tweeee!_ I felt the cold baton shoved into my hand, and I was off. My sneakers skidded along the wet track. Something was wrong! I wasn't moving as fast as I should have been! My legs felt like blocks of lead.

I stumbled to a stop in the middle of the lap, swaying on my feet, clutching the baton like a life preserver, trying desperately to keep from throwing up.

"Parker! What's wrong?"

_I don't know!  
_

Then, in an instant, my knees buckled. The baton rolled onto the grass and suddenly the back of my head banged against the track. I closed my eyes. My arms ached, my legs ached, even my palms ached. I could have lain there forever, like a distance marker. Get to Mayday and you're halfway around.

"Parker!" I felt Coach grab my shoulders and pull me to my feet. "Come on. We've got to get you to the nurse."

Ten minutes later, I was slumped over in a chair in the nurse's office, waiting to be picked up. Mom worked in lower Manhattan, and she would be here any moment. My head pounded.

"Would you like some water, or tea, or anything?" the nurse asked worriedly.

"No...no, thank you..." I murmured. It hurt to talk. It hurt to think.

It seemed like a second later that the door swung open, and Mom, still in her work uniform, was there.

"Mayday, what's wrong? They said you fainted-"

"Are you May's mother?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, I'm Mary Jane Parker." Mom helped me to my feet.

"I...see," the nurse said, glancing between us. Even through my nausea, I felt a little twinge of annoyance. This always happened, people not believing me when I pointed out my mom to them. It was hard for them to believe that Mom, with bright red hair and blue eyes, could have a daughter with brown eyes and hair that was almost black.

I wavered there, steadying myself against the door as Mom signed me out. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and helped me to my feet. Somehow we made it to the car.

Mom shut my door and hurried around the other side. "Let's get you home. I'll call the doctor and get you an appointment." She patted my on my shoulder, "You'll be okay. You'll be okay."

"You'll miss work," I mumbled, fumbling with my seatbelt.

"It's not important," Mom said quickly.

I thought painfully, _Yes, it is important! You work so hard already! Don't worry about me!  
_

At home, in a half-sleep, I stumbled upstairs to my room, pulling the door shut behind me as Mom rushed to the phone. The storm was still growling threateningly in the distance.

I kicked off my sneakers and reached up to pull off my glasses. I caught a glimpse of my palms. They were bright red. A wave of nausea swept over me.

"Aaargh! Aaaah!" I gasped as twin lines of pain ripped across the inside of my wrists. Tears of agony leaked from my eyes as I raised my arm. I saw two bright red lines stretching over my veins.

My legs buckled under me and I collapsed on my bed. I was dying, I knew I was dying, and I didn't mind. After this agony, I didn't care.

I dreamed...that Dad was home, that he had never gone missing at all.

_That's the last place I want to live_, Harry said.

_Parker! What's wrong?  
_

_I don't know!  
_

My biology teacher droned, _Changes in the organism are entirely controlled by DNA. At a certain age, otherwise dormant DNA can become active. Like in the spider or scorpion, for example...  
_

_Kingdom Animalia, Phylum Arthropoda, Order Arachnida...  
_

_What's wrong with me...?_


	2. Chapter Two: Growing Pains

Chapter Two

"Mayday! Mayday!"

"Huh? Whazzat? Whozere?" I grunted.

"Mayday! Wake up! You're late!"

My last dream dissolved into a blurry pink face and a mop of red hair. "Benny?"

Benny grinned and flashed the lights on and off.

"Stop it," I groaned, and pulled the covers over my head. Wait a minute. Wasn't I supposed to be sick?

My eight-year-old brother flashed the lights again for good measure and said, "You talk in your sleep, you know."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. And you were talking with an Australian accent. What are you dreaming?"

"Just that I'm the amazing Stephanie Irwin, the one and only female crocodile hunter," I mumbled. "Why'd you wake me up?"

"Because you're twenty minutes late, Crocodile Woman. Get up." Benny bounced out the door and clattered down the hall, leaving the lights on.

Twenty minutes late?

I flung off my covers and gracefully tumbled head over heels out of bed. I scrambled to my feet, tripped on the leg of my desk and got a face full of carpet. From my new position on the floor, I saw the clock: 6:45.

Benny backpedaled to peek back into the room. "It's like a circus act or something," he remarked.

"Oh, let me suffer in peace!" I wailed, and stretched out my arm to push the door closed. Benny bounced back down the stairs.

"Mayday. How are you feeling?" There was Mom, leaning into the doorway.

"I'm...I'm fine!" Somehow I got my feet organized beneath me and I clambered up, rubbing my head.

Mom felt my forehead. "Oh, good, your fever's gone. Are you sure you're all right? I'll take the day off so you can stay home."

"No, Mom, really, I feel fine. I feel great!" I grinned. I really did feel fine. Great. Wonderful! I felt like I could sprint a mile!

Mom gaped at me in mock astonishment. "You're feeling great at six in the morning? Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

"Aw, Mom..."

"Okay, okay. I'm going to go fix breakfast."

I made my way towards the bedside table for my glasses, then froze. I could see my glasses lying on the table from the middle of the room. Why hadn't I realized that I wasn't wearing them before?

I hurried over to the table and slid my glasses onto my face. The world dissolved into a fragmented blur, and I snatched them off.

I pinched myself. Was I still dreaming?

I shook my head soundly. Nope. I was awake. I turned and headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, no!"

Freezing rain battered against the window panes sounding like gunshots. I glowered as I shut the bathroom door. Coach would probably expect us to run sprints in it, too.

I splashed water on my face and pulled off my track shirt, which I had fallen asleep in.

"_Aaaaaah!_ Wha...what the..."

I stumbled back against the seat. Now I _knew_ I was dreaming.

"Mayday? Are you okay?" I heard Mom call.

"I'm okay!" I called back, all the while shaking my head _no_.

I waved at the mirror. The reflection waved back. It was sinewy and muscular, with distinct shoulder muscles and biceps. I glanced down at my legs and nearly fainted again. My arms and legs had been fine before, but they had never looked like this! I looked like a swimmer!

I brushed my teeth and showered in a daze. As I was in front of the mirror, trying to do something with my hair, I froze. Mom was on the phone. I could hear her talking. Grandma Watson was on the other end.

Mom was _downstairs_!

"She's not a bit like the women in our family," Grandma Watson commented to Mom, "Look at her, Mary Jane. She's as small as a minute and all of those dark curls...where did they come from? Now, Benjamin, _he_ looks like a Watson..."

"Mother," Mom had said irritably. She only called Grandma Watson 'Mother' instead of 'Mom' or even 'Ma' when she was starting to get on her nerves. "Mother," she said, "You know perfectly well that she looks more like Peter. Not everyone can be a redhead."

Grandma snorted when she heard 'Mayday'. Another touchy point with her was my nickname. "Mayday isn't a proper name for a young woman," she had sniffed once, "Your name is May Eleanor Parker, and you should be happy to have such a pretty name like that. Why on earth do you want to be called 'Mayday'?"

I snapped out of my memories. There was something wrong with me!

I ran down into the kitchen, wearing a long-sleeved blouse and the loosest pair of jeans I could find. My feet made no noise on the stairs.

_Move!_

"Aaaah!" I leaped backwards as a red-caped Superman action figure swooped into my face like a rabid bat. "What the...Benny!"

My fiendish little brother, clad in a Batman T-shirt and matching sneakers, was hugging himself and cackling with glee in his best Joker impersonation. The Superman model dangled harmlessly from a string taped to the top of the threshold.

"Benjamin Parker, it's too early for your booby traps!" Mom called from the middle of the den, stuffing her briefcase with a cell phone clamped between her shoulder and her ear. She was already in her work clothes at six-thirty in the morning. She had started working as the morning technician at the store, and she always needed to be up extra early these days.

"What did you do that for?" I grumbled, pulling out a kitchen chair and halfheartedly dumping cereal into a bowl.

Benny grinned toothily. "Admit it. Didn't that wake you up?"

"What is it with you today?"

"What is it with _you_?" Benny countered, retrieving his Lucky Charms from the shelf. "Why're you in such a lousy mood?"

"I am not in a bad mood!" I poured the dry cereal back into the box. No, I wasn't in a bad mood. I was shaken, jumpy, and utterly creeped out, but not in a bad mood.

Benny leaned over the table and peered owlishly at me. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You look kind of different."

I fidgeted with my sleeves, trying to adjust them to hide my arms and shoulders. Mom rushed into the kitchen towards her purse, stopped, and looked at me. "You do look better. Still, are you sure you're all right? I can skip today..."

"No!" I protested. Mom and Benny both blinked. "No, it's okay. Really." There was no way Mom was going to miss work because of me. She worked hard enough already, and I couldn't let her skip the morning shift just because I felt a little strange.

The morning rushed by in a blur. I hid behind my backpack and buried myself in a copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_, hoping that no one would notice me. The bus chugged to a stop in front of Harry's house.

I glanced out the window. No Harry. The car wasn't in the driveway, either. Where was he? Where could he and his aunt have gone so early in the morning? Mrs. McKay was a short, bubbly woman with a gray ponytail and dedicated to perfect attendance.

Thirty minutes later, the bus trundled to a stop in front of Midtown High School. I dashed off the bus and headed for first period, still wondering what on earth was going on, and where Harry could be.

First period. Pre-Cal. I ducked my head as I sidled into the room. You probably could have seen me shrinking as I made my way towards my desk through the throng of juniors.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's Mayday Parker, the genius sophomore, come to regale us with her wisdom!" Jennifer Banda cracked, and the rest of the class giggled like a pack of hyenas. I slid into my desk, silently.

"Whassa matter, Parker? You too good to talk with the rest of us?"

_Keep quiet, don't answer, just ignore her_. I repeated the thought like a mantra as I pulled out my textbook and binder.

"Hey, why do you act so smart, Parker? Big words and all. Why can't you be like the rest of us?"

_Don't answer..._

Wait a minute.

Why not? Why shouldn't I stand up for myself? Why should I have to take this silently? I twisted around in my seat. "How can I ever be like you? I walk upright."

"Oooooh," the class said.

"Excuse me? Are you insulting me, Parker? You better not be a smart mouth, or I might have to slap it for you."

"What is your problem, Banda? What did I ever do to you?"

Banda stood up. She was a junior, at least a foot taller than me and about three times as wide. "What did you ever do to me? How about being the only sophomore in this class and making everyone else look stupid?"

I stood up, furious. "You don't _need_ help to look stupid!"

_Move!_

I jerked to the side as Banda swung. I felt the breeze as her fist blew past an inch from my face. I gasped as the class cheered. How had that happened?

_Move! Right! Left! Back! Look out!  
_

I dodged again and again as Banda punched at me again and again, my mouth open. What was going on? It was as if my brain was just sitting there in shock as my body twisted and jerked out of the way on its own.

I stood up straight again as Banda paused. Her eyes were wider than mine. "What the..."

The class was utterly silent, staring at me as if I were from another planet. I didn't blame them. Small, timid Mayday Parker had just insulted the notorious Jennifer Banda to her face and dodged every single one of her punches!

I felt my face getting hot. Wordlessly, I stepped over my backpack and hurried down the aisle between the desks. No one tried to trip me. No one said a word. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the hall.

"Ow!"

The class burst out laughing again. What could possibly happen now?

I turned and stared at my right hand, still flat where I had pushed the door open. I pulled. My hand didn't move.

Was this a joke? Did someone put glue on the door, or...

I braced my left hand against the door and shoved.

_Rrrip!_

My hand wrenched off the door, along with several chips of paint and splinters of wood. Burning with embarrassment, I tried to walk out of the room again.

The class started laughing again.

Now my _left_ hand was stuck! I grabbed my wrist, braced my foot against the door, and shoved as hard as i could.

_Rrrip!_ "Aaaaah!" _Crash! Rattle, rattle...  
_

I went flying five feet down the hall as the door slammed shut, and crashed against the wall of lockers.

"May! What…what are you _doing_?" Mrs. Schwartz, the Pre-Cal teacher, gasped in astonishment, her mug of coffee splattering in every direction.

"Ah, ah, nothing. I...um, may I be excused? From class? Right now?" I stammered.

"Yes, go ahead..."

I scrambled to my feet and ran. I dashed through the crowd, shouldered through a mob of freshmen, and kept running out the side doors, across the field, and to the sidewalk next to the street.

Distantly, I heard the late bell ring. I didn't care. I collapsed onto a bench, my head in my hands. Oh, no, oh, no. This couldn't be happening. This had to be some kind of dream, some kind of nightmare. Maybe I was still sick, and I was hallucinating. That had to be it.

"Hey!"

_Danger.  
_

I flinched. What was that? It was like a little warning bell going off inside my head.

_Danger!_ I straightened up and looked around.

"Hey, sweetie!" It was a man, leaning against a car at the corner. He didn't look older than nineteen or twenty, but he had a funny smile on his face.

_DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!  
_

I stood up. I was in trouble. A lot of trouble. The sidewalk was busy, but no one glanced my way twice.

The man sauntered closer, reaching into his jacket. "Hey, little lady, you want to go for a ride?"

"Not particularly," I said.

The man flipped his jacket open. The grip of a handgun glinted in his pocket. "That's too bad," he said.

I stiffened. Did I have a chance to run? Could I yell for help? Or could I try to grab the gun?

With a start, it hit me. Even while wondering how I could escape, I wasn't afraid!

The man stepped closer.

"Stay away from me. You'll get hurt."

The man chuckled unplesantly. "I seem to be the one holding the gun, sweetie." He lunged.

I whipped my arm up to block him, planning to dodge away and make a run for it, when-

_Thwip!  
_

"_Aaaaargh_!" The man reeled back, clawing at his face. Now people noticed. I gasped. The man was screaming, scrabbling at his eyes, which was covered by what looked like a spider web the size of his face. The gun clattered to the sidewalk.

I turned, ran, and kept running. South, through midtown, into lower Manhattan. I dodged and weaved through people and traffic, sprinting past ground zero and towards the Queensboro Bridge.

I ran and ran, over the sidewalks, into Queens. Trying to run away from this whole, awful morning.

I blitzed past Harry's house, still empty. I turned the corner and saw Mom just stepping outside, sorting through her keys.

"Mayday!" Mom's jaw dropped in shock as I blew past her, inside, and up the stairs. Past my room, past Mom's, past Benny's. I leapt up the attic stairs, bursting through the door.

"Mayday! Mayday!" I heard Mom running up the stairs to the second floor.

I stumbled on, tripping over an old chest of drawers from Great-Aunt May, and fell. I wasn't even out of breath. I had just run a thirty-minute bus drive in fifteen minutes and I wasn't tired.

I tried to organize my feet beneath me and stand up. The chest of drawers toppled over, narrowly missing my head. A drawer emptied onto my lap.

For the millionth time that day, I gasped.

In the drawer was a folded stack of clothes. Red and blue, with thin, black designs running in spider web patterns all over. Clinging to the palm of my left hand was a mask. It was red, and stretchy, meant to cover the person's entire head. On the front were two huge, swept back, opaque white eyepatches.

The chest of drawers had belonged to my dad.

This mask had belonged to _Spider-Man_.

"Mayday? What happened? How did you get here? What..." Mom appeared in the attic doorway. She stared at me, then stared at the mask.

"May," she said, closing her eyes, "put that mask back and come downstairs.

"We need to talk."


	3. Chapter Three: Secrets

Chapter Three

"Mom. I am fifteen years old. And for fifteen years, you neglected to tell me, that my dad, Peter Parker..._was Spider-Man_?" I shouted. A bunch of pigeons perched on the fence fluttered past the living room window.

"Mayday, keep your voice down!" Mom took a swallow of the coffee she had just pulled boiling out of the microwave. Her voice was calm, but her knuckles were white from gripping the cup.

"Keep my voice down? _Keep my voice down_?" My voice rose even higher. "I don't know, Mom, it's a little hard to do under the circumstances!"

Mom stood up and set the mug down on the coffee table. She took me by the shoulders and steered me to the sofa. "May. Listen to me. Calm...down."

I sat down on the sofa, staring at Mom, who sat down in the armchair across the coffee table. "All right, I'm calm. Tell me."

Mom sipped her coffee, then said, "Why did you skip school?"

"Mom!" I gaped at my mother, appalled. "Tell me!"

"All right. All right. We...I should have told you this a long time ago." Mom turned the coffee cup in her hands. Sweaty fingerprints glistened and vanished.

"Your dad…when he was in high school, about your age, he was bitten by a spider. A 'genetically enhanced superspider' the guide said. We were on a field trip, you see, to Columbia's bioengineering labs."

I simply sat there, frozen, as Mom spun the story, from mutant spiders and superpowers to crime fighting and life-saving. The square of morning sunlight crept across the carpet towards the window as I stared at my mother, my brain still frozen in the "My dad's a superhero" part.

"You wouldn't believe some of the scrapes he got me out of," Mom chuckled sadly. "I never knew it was him, of course. It just seemed like I had a superhero watching over me everywhere I went."

Dad, during college, had needed a job, so he became a freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle, owned by none other than the Spider-Man slanderer J. Jonah Jameson.

"Wait, but Dad was his Spider-Man photographer!" I blurted. "You mean Jameson was paying Dad to take pictures of himself?" I burst out laughing, my astonishment temporarily dissolving into hilarity. I had met Jameson only once, a few years ago, when all four of us had been invited to a company Christmas party. He was a short, scruffy looking man that shouted his opinions at the top of his lungs and appeared to be wearing a dead badger on his head instead of a toupee. It had been kind of the family joke after that. The heroic struggle between Spider-Man and his fiendish nemesis, the evil Badger-Man.

Mom laughed too. "Exactly. Jameson would probably have a coronary if he knew."

Mom continued with Dad's story. Villains came into it, people like the Green Goblin, and Kraven, and Scorpion. Dad had beaten them all, of course. I vaguely remembered news reports from years ago, video footage of Spider-Man flying through the city on web lines, tackling costumed lunatics and criminals.

"I found out right before we got married," said Mom. "We were so worried that you and Benny would inherit Peter's abilities. We didn't want either of you to have to live with that kind of responsibility. We didn't want you to be put in the kind of danger he faced every time he put on that suit."

Dad. Spider-Man. Superpowers.

I felt my eyes widen. Dad's abilities...like climbing walls, shooting web lines, strength, speed, agility...

It couldn't be! But it had to be! Jennifer Banda couldn't lay a fist on me, that creep on the street corner couldn't get near me...

My fingers clung to doors and walls, I could run for half an hour...

And just yesterday, I had gotten sick...

_I had Dad's powers!_

I grabbed the glass of water from the coffee table and gulped it down. I couldn't believe it. But it had to be true. There was no other explanation. Then, another thought hit me.

"Mom, if Dad's Spider-Man, then _where is he_?"

Mom set her coffee mug down on the table. She swallowed. "I don't…I don't know, Mayday."

The little bubble of hope burst. But Mom had to know what had happened! Dad wouldn't have just left us, would he? "You...you don't know? How could you not know?"

"I don't know, Mayday. I don't know!" Mom clenched her hands together so hard that the color drained from her knuckles. "He went out, one night, five years ago, as always. And he never came back. Nothing unusual was going on, no dangerous criminals, nothing! I don't know what happened!

"He always meant to retire," Mom continued agitatedly. "After we got married, and you and Benny were born. But things kept coming up. He never could ignore what was happening in the city. And now..."

Suddenly, Mom lunged forward and wrapped me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, guilt making the corners of my eyes prickle. I wished I had never brought this up, never found out.

"Oh, Mayday, I'm so glad you're safe. I'm so glad that you'll never have to deal with any of that."

_But I am going to have to deal with that!_

I had Dad's abilities! How was I going to explain this? What would Mom think? I'd already messed things up enough without this!

What could I do? How could I tell Mom now? After all of this? She had enough to worry about already, managing two jobs, taking care of me and Benny on her own...

I hugged her back, my mind made up.

No.

I couldn't tell her now.


	4. Chapter Four: Family Business

Chapter Four

"Now what am I supposed to do?" I chucked a pillow across my room. It smacked into my clock radio and knocked it off my desk, gloomily flashing 1:24 AM in the darkness. The rest of the house was utterly silent.

I groaned and flopped back into bed as thunder muttered in the distance. When it came to gnawing feelings of guilt, nothing beat keeping massive secrets from your mother.

I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and caught a glimpse of the inside of my wrist. Where I used to see a web of blue veins was now a smooth, irregular star-shaped white patch. Spinnerets. Web-shooters.

My hand clung to the bedsheet and I wrenched it off angrily. Of course I was angry. Angry at myself, at Mom for not telling me sooner, even at Dad for disappearing when we all needed him most.

Oh yes, and angry at the fact that I was part arachnid!

What was I supposed to do now? I wasn't exactly your average tenth-grader anymore! How could I spend the rest of my life as some kind of genetic mutant? What did this all mean, for everything?

Not to mention Benny. Did Benny have the spider-abilities too? Had he inherited them at all? Or would they wait to show up when he was a teenager?

"Now what am I supposed to do?" I repeated. "What can I do?"

Well, I could just wear gloves for the rest of my life and pretend to be as boring and ordinary as everyone else. But how could I live like that? Why would I want to?

On the other hand...

I slapped my forehead. "I have got to be out of my mind."

I had just had this strange, silly image of me in a patriotic costume, trapezing around Manhattan like the old news clips of Spider-Man, no, Dad.

But me? The embarrassingly diminuitive of stature, wild-haired Mayday Parker?

I stood up, crossed the room and peeked out the door into the hallway. Pitch black and noiseless.

The door creaked deafeningly as it shut and I tiptoed down the hall towards the attic stairs. No movement from either Mom or Benny's rooms.

The attic was exactly as I had left it, with the toppled chest of drawers and the stack of spandex. I clicked on the hanging light bulb, and knelt down next to the open drawer. The mask was still lying crumpled on top of the stack of costumes, face down. I reached over and picked it up. The huge, blank, swept-back eyepatches were frozen in an unblinking wide-eyed stare.

Dad's mask. He had been my age when the spider had bitten him. I remembered a talk from a few years ago, when I was a little kid just starting the track team at the YMCA. There was a scheduled meet that I didn't want to go to, frankly because of a much younger Jennifer Banda. I had cried and wailed that I didn't want to go, that I just didn't want to run. Mom and Dad had known why. And, that morning, Dad had sat me down for a talk on responsibility.

Sounds like an old episode of Father Knows Best from the way I'm telling it, doesn't it? Either way, he had been very serious. I couldn't let my team down just because of something personal. I had started track, and I had to pull through and not try and get out of my duty.

Another crash of thunder brought me back to the present. I glanced around uncomfortably, but all was still. Dad had been my age when the spider had bitten him. And he had decided then to devote his life to using his powers to fight crime and save lives.

I swallowed, staring down at the mask in my hands. I was alone on this. Mom couldn't come and make everything okay. No one could make this decision for me. I was on my own.

Could I? Could I do it?

I leaned over the drawer, pulling out the entire costume. Standing up, I let it unfold to the floor. Much too long, and too wide. A little long in the arms, but probably fixable.

"Lots of people go into their family businesses," I said finally.

Well, it wasn't quite an average case, but still...

"Okay, Dad. I'm finally getting responsible," I said to the air, then began rummaging through the piles of cardboard boxes for Mom's old sewing kit.


	5. Chapter Five: Mayday

Chapter Five

"Mayday, Harry, do you really have to talk while I'm explaining electron shells?" Ms. Garcia sighed, turning from the dry erase board and flipping her black braid over her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow cynically.

Harry and I snapped up straight in our desks. "Sorry, Ms. Garcia," I said embarrassedly.

But as soon as her back was turned, Harry turned around in his seat again."Yeah, anyway, you won't believe this. Aunt Beth and I went to see the place. It's huge! Right in the middle of Manhattan! And the car! Bentley! It's a _Bentley_!"

"Er...what exactly is a Bentley?"

"Big fancy car. It's ugly as heck, but rich people use it to show off their money..."

Harry had been grinning from ear to ear ever since he had gotten on the bus this morning. He must have changed his mind about inheriting the house, and he must have been just bursting to tell someone.

"Yeah, there's this thing about some old lab my dad owned too," Harry continued. "And—"

"A_-hem,_" said Ms. Garcia pointedly, looking over her shoulder. Harry turned around and hunched over his notes, looking a little guilty. I couldn't blame him. Chemistry class was one of the only decent science classes most of the people in my year had had in high school, and Ms. Garcia really _was_ a great teacher. Even so, it was common knowledge that the attendance in chemistry was so high because most of the boys had crushes on her.

I noticed an edge of red fabric peeking out from beneath my sleeve and moved my arm. It had been two weeks since I had started fixing the costume, two harrowing weeks of suddenly having to stuff it under the bed or fling it into my closet as soon as Mom or Benny came in. But, finally, it was done!

The mask and gloves were safely hidden in my backpack. I had been practicing my webshooting as secretly as I could at night in the garage, eventually overcoming the nausea accompanying feeling lines of spider web blasting out of my wrists. I had also figured out how to scale the wall of my bedroom and crawl across the ceiling.

I grinned inwardly from my secret. Just let something happen. I was ready! What could possibly go wrong?

Well, other than the fact that I had never actually leaped from a skyscraper, rescued anyone, or tackled a psychotic criminal.

Harry was finally orced to turn around in his seat and start scribbling answers to questions about electrons. I bit my lower lip, staring blankly at the open page of my textbook. Harry was my best friend. Could I...nah. But...

No, no, no! This was a bad idea. Even I had read enough comic books to realize that you should never tell anyone your secret. I figured there was a good reason for that, even if it was someone you trusted. But Harry was my best friend.

Could I tell him?

"Hey, you know that group project we've got to do for social studies? What do you think about doing the report on Spider-Man?" I asked in what I hoped was a casual way as Harry and I shoved through the crowds out to the bus lane after school had ended.

Harry stopped dead and I narrowly avoided crashing into him.

"Spider-Man?"

"Yeah," I replied carefully. "He's a good topic, and..." I trailed off as I caught the expression on Harry's face. I felt an odd, persistent tingle beginning inside my head, the same, tense feeling I had felt the first day two weeks ago.

Harry turned to face me, struggling to keep his face impassive. "Why Spider- Man?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Harry snapped. "Mayday, I've gotta go. See you." With that, he reshouldered his backpack and disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked after him, astonished. What was that all about? Glancing at my watch, I stared up at the skyscrapers jutting up around Midtown High School. I wasn't supposed to be home for at least another two hours.

Hmm...

I stared after Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen. Shaking my head in confusion, I turned and made my way through the crush of students in the opposite direction. The day was partly cloudy, not too bright, and pleasantly warm. No one looked twice at me as I sidled into an alley between two hotels.

"Okay, Mayday, are you ready for this?" I muttered. I sneaked another look at the passing people, all stuffed into business suits and barking into cell phones.

I slipped behind a tall pile of empty boxes stamped with faded fruit labels. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my sweatshirt over my head. Underneath my outer clothes was the costume. Red, blue, and black, with a thin pattern of raised black spider web. An eight-legged, spider design stretched across my chest.

I stuffed my outer clothes and shoes into my backpack and pulled on the matching gloves. They connected almost seamlessly from the end of my sleeves. Then, taking another breath of the sooty air around me, I quickly flattened my hair with one hand and pulled the mask down over my head.

Instantly my vision was clouded in a whitish haze. The cloth plastered itself against my face like a second skin. Breathing slowly, I turned to face the wall. It was about eight stories tall, first bare concrete and then smoothing out into glittering glass and steel.

Well, here I was in costume. I didn't feel particularly heroic or adventurous. I just felt like me. Just Mayday Parker with a mask on.

I set my jaw, tensed my legs, and leaped straight upwards, landing with the tips of my fingers braced against the concrete fifteen feet up the wall. Hand over hand, I crawled straight up the wall, my confidence growing, a feeling of wonderful exhilaration making me smile beneath mymask. I was doing it!

I scaled the skyscraper, passing several offices and causing a poor businessman to spit his coffe out all over his desk as I stopped to enjoy the view on the wall outside his window.

I grasped the very edge of the roof and vaulted over, astonished at my own strength. I was now eight stories above the swarms of buses and taxis on the streets below.

"Time to see if all of that practice payed off," I said out loud.

I pivoted on the balls of my feet, raised my right hand, and slowly aimed it at a spot on the next building over, just below the roof. I turned my hand palm up, straightened my fingers, then bent my middle and ring fingers in towards my wrist.

_Thwip!_

I rocked backwards slightly as the line of web jetted from my wrist. I snatched hold of the end just as it connected with the building opposite. I gripped the web with both hands, gulped, and jumped.

"_Aaaaaaaaaahh!"_

The ground rushed up at me at a dizzying speed. My arms were jerked up over my head. People yelled and pointed up wildly as I swung meters above their heads, breezing back up into the sky.

Almost instinctively, I let go of the line before my brain realized what I had just done. I started to fall, until my left arm whipped up and slung another line of web and the next building, swinging again down the street, Tarzan-style.

I laughed giddily, or maybe hysterically. This was no dream. I could do it! Me! Mayday!

I headed south, dropping down to hop rooftops in Chinatown and springing back into the air into what seemed to be a neverending rollercoaster around Manhattan. I swooped to a rooftop by the water and paused for breath, just across the street from the brand-new bridge that was opening today. There was news covereage, and two helicopters circled around like huge bees.

I turned to get ready to webswing again, when a strange sound from the direction of the bridge caught my attention. It was one of the helicopters. It wobbled in the air, shaking from side to side. I heard a murmur start up from the people on the ground below.

The helicopter wobbled drunkenly again, and I gasped as it began to take an inclined nosedive straight towards the support pillars of the bridge and the water below. I shut my eyes automatically, not wanting to see what I knew was about to happen. A deafening impact assailed my ears as I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth beneath my mask.

Below, I could hear the police officers below screaming into their walkie- talkies. "Mayday! We've got a helicopter down! I repeat! Mayday!"

I didn't have time to think about weird coincidences. The helicopter had slammed into the bridge with a deafening shriek of twisting metal. Even from my height, I could see the two pilots waving wildly for help, smoke billowing ominously from the cockpit.

My heart leaped up into my throat as I stood there, frozen. Then, I finally understood. This wasn't a joyride. This wasn't a "let's-play-superhero" game. This was real. Real people were down there in the crash that had taken place before my eyes. Real people were trapped in that helicopter, faces twisted in panic and terror. Real, living people with homes and families and hopes and dreams were on that bridge, clambering out of their cars and running for their lives.

I took a running dive off of the roof, somersaulting in midair and swinging towards the scene of water and fire below, hoping, praying that I could do what I needed to do.


	6. Chapter Six: Chopper Down

Chapter Six

I hurtled into space like a bungee jumper, feeling my stomach lurch as I snapped back upwards in arc. The momentum of the swing propelled me into the air, sending me literally flying towards the suspension bridge. The wind roared like a hurricane, mingling eerily with the shouts from the bridge and the beating propellers of the helpless second helicopter.

The sun glared blindingly for an instant. The car-packed bridge leaped upwards at a dizzying speed, but the thrill of falling had long since melted into an icy, choking terror of what would happen if I failed.

Instinctively, I caught hold of the edge of one of the thick horizontal cables spanning the top of the bridge, twirled over it and dropped feet first, landing in a crouch on top of the roof of a taxi. The taxi driver stuck his head out the window. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you..."

Suddenly, very quickly, at the same time his eyes widened and his mouth shrunk enormously. A woman climbing out of her stopped car in the next lane pointed at me and stuttered, "Spuh...Spuh...Spi..."

For a split second afterwards, there wasn't a sound to be heard on that bridge. Then, an explosion of shouting nearly knocked me over as people started screaming for me to do something, gesturing wildly at the west side of the bridge, where plumes of smoke were twisting ominously from below.

Barely thinking, I sprang off the taxi to the roof of a van twenty feet away, then again to clutch the vertical suspension cables connecting the concrete to the steel beams above.

I looked down and nearly lost my grip. Hanging barely five feet above the water, the helicopter was grotesquely flattened like against the giant concrete supports of the bridge like a swatted insect. Somehow, during the crash, it had flipped over forwards in midair and tangled its propeller in the cables, swung around, and smashed its tail against the column. Sparks were flickering from the cockpit.

"What are you waiting for? Do something!" someone from the crowd screamed.

"I'm working on it!" Beads of sweat began to soak my mask. The chopper looked ready to slip at any moment. If I jumped or swung down there, my impact could be enough to send it tumbling into the river. And with those sparks...

Wait! If I couldn't get to it from above, then maybe I could get to it from below! If I could get under the skis, I might be able to pull myself up to the pilots without dislodging the helicopter. But how? The only way to get down there was to...

Swim.

I sucked in a deep breath, held it, squeezed my eyes shut, and bounded into the air, fervently hoping that spider-powers included the ability to hold my breath.

_Splash!_

The water was shockingly cold, even for late September. Down and down I plunged, feet first, clawing uselessly at the suffocating river water. I was drowning! I thrashed furiously, kicking up bubbles that swirled mockingly up towards the flickering surface.

What was the matter with me? I knew how to swim. But somewhere, deep inside, there was a gnawing, shrieking panic at being buried alive by tons and tons of black water.

In a bewildering swirl, the panic gave way to anger, then to fury. I had done all of this to be beaten by a few feet of water? It wasn't just my life that was at stake!

I cupped my hands and stroked upwards, at the same time kicking as hard as I could. The wavering light shot towards me as my head broke the surface. I gasped against the stifling mask, which had now plastered itself against my nose and mouth. Treading water, I spun around and looked up to see the chopper dangling not five feet over my head.

I would only have one shot at this. If I didn't keep my balance properly, all of us would go straight down into the river, and there would be no escape for any of us.

The cables tangling the propeller shifted with a metallic groan, and the helicopter swayed dangerously. If I was going to do anything, it had to be now!

I sank back to my chin under the waves, then kicked down against the water. I shot upwards, made a wild grab, and felt the palms of my hands connect and cling to the steel ski of the helicopter.

I froze, but the chopper only swayed slightly in the breeze. Letting out my breath in a whoosh, I carefully pulled my right hand away from the flat of the ski and pressed it against the horizontal stilt.

Slowly, tensely, I pulled myself hand-over-hand up the ski, then finally came face-level with the pilot's side window. The door was half open towards the river. I climbed to the right of the door and peered in.

"Hi. Everyone all right in here?"

The two pilots gaped at me in astonishment. They were still strapped into their seats. The man gasped, "Spider..._Girl_?"

I hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Spider-Girl. Are you both all right?"

"Yeah, we're...we're fine," said the woman, still looking like her eyes were about to fall out of her head.

The controls sparked again, and all three of us flinched. "Okay, don't worry. I'm going to get you out of here," I said, with much more confidence than I actually had. "But this isn't going to be easy. The cables aren't going to hold much longer. Can you get out of your seatbelts?"

In shock, the pilots both hastily undid their seatbelts, bracing their feet against the curved floor to stay upright.

How was I going to do this? I couldn't get one of them out at a time, the cables wouldn't hold that long. I would have to get them both out of here at once. But, in order to do that, I would have to make a twenty foot leap straight up from the roof to the level of the bridge. A leap while carrying two people.

I slid back out of the door. "You're going to have to climb out onto the roof. Slowly! Be careful. This thing's about to fall."

"And then what?"

"I've got it under control."

The helicopter rocked violently. "Slowly! I said _slowly_!"

_Thwaang_!

My head snapped up. What was that?

_Thwaang_!

A cable snapped loose from its bolt at the end of the bridge and flailed up like a bullwhip.

"All right, maybe a little faster."

Both pilots were struggling to climb up the smooth surface of the chopper. I made my way over the curve of the roof and pulled them both up. The helicopter rocked again.

_Thwaang_! _Thwaang_!

All of us yelped as the helicopter dropped about a foot as two more cables snapped. Now the distance to the bridge was even farther.

_Thwaang_! _Thwaang_! _Thwaang_!

I reached out with both arms, grabbed both pilots around their waists and gave the mightiest spring I could ever have done just as the last cable snapped.

The three of us tumbled to the concrete just as the twisted wreckage of the chopper disappeared under the waves.


	7. Chapter Seven: Never

Chapter Seven

"Freeze!"

My heart was pounding like I had just run a marathon. I heard the scrape of shoes on hot aphsalt as both pilots were hauled to their feet. Then I heard an entirely different sound.

_CLICK! CH-CHIK! CLICK! CH-CHIK!  
_

Shaking my head, I scrambled to my feet and whirled. At least ten police officers were standing in a semicircle around me, sunlight glinting on the ten accompanying revolvers leveled directly at my head.

"What...what are you doing?" The words were thick and alien in my mouth. The damp mask seemed to seal itself more tightly around my face, cutting off my air.

The nearest officer, a young man who looked to be in his twenties, stuttered again, "Freeze!" Sweat was pouring down his face. His eyes were wide, and his hands, both wrapped tightly around the handle of his gun, were trembling as if he had palsy. I glanced surrepititiously around at the others. They were terrified! Of what?

Of me? They couldn't be terrified of _me_, could they?

I slowly raised my hands, palms forward. "Look, I-"

"One more move and you're dead! Facedown on the ground, hands behind your head! Now!"

They were trying to arrest me! Why? What had I done? I had just saved the lives of two people, that's what I had done! And they were going to arrest me for that?

"Aw, man, let her go, she was just..." one man from the crowd of spectators began, but he trailed off into silence when no one else supported him.

I should have been angry. I had done all of this, risked my life for them, and this is what they did. But all I felt was an exhausted, aching emptiness. Without a word, I tensed my legs, sprang into the air, and shot a line of web at the top of the bridge.

No bullets followed me.

It was only five o' clock by the time I had found my clothes and taken the bus home. I stumbled inside, kicked the door closed behind me, and made for my room. Mom was in the kitchen, and Benny was in the den. I could just go upstairs and sleep. Just collapse on my bed and sleep.

Was _this_ what being a superhero was like?

"Mayday! Mayday! You've _got_ to see this!"

Benny came bouncing into the hall as I blinked blearily at him. "Huh? What?"

Benny grabbed my arm and began hauling me into the den. "Come on! Hurry!"

I groaned. "Benny, I'm really tired..."

"Let's look at that footage again, Bob. All right, what exactly are we seeing here?" the anchorman asked from the TV. The words "Special Report" were scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

"Well, Dave, this is the view from the Channel 11 helicopter, about five minutes after the crash. Almost...there! Freeze it! Can we get a close-up here?"

There, frozen blurrily in the middle of the screen, was a flash of red. The camera zoomed in, and the figure became startlingly clear. It was me! Me, hanging unsupported in midair, fingers braced to websling again.

"That's her. This is absolutely incredible, isn't it? Look at her! Hey, did anyone find those old broadcasts from '97?"

"Just a minute ago. Here they are. Can we get those in the same frame together?"

The image of me narrowed and slid sideways, and another, grainer image appeared on the right. It was an image of Dad! Dad as Spider-Man, in the act of webswinging somewhere in Manhattan.

"That's no coincidence. They've got to be related. How many people can do stuff like that? We didn't get any recordings of her voice, but eyewitnesses report that she sounds like a teenage girl, probably fourteen or fifteen. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking it, Greg, I'm thinking it."

Suddenly, I was wide awake again. Benny bounced up and down on the couch. "Is this cool or what? They're already calling her 'Spider-Girl'. I know what this means! There's like a new race of mutant spider-people! I bet they were created by some mad scientist, who tried to use them to take over the world or something, but then they decided to be good guys and fight crime from their secret spider-cave under Manhattan."

"Probably nothing that complicated," I muttered, eyes glued to the TV. This was snowballing out of control! How could I have been so stupid? Of course the media was going to find out, not to mention...

"Benny? I changed my mind. You can go over Jim's house if you want. Just for one hour though, okay?"

Mom.

She was standing in the doorway from the kitchen, arms crossed. Benny stared suspiciously at her for a moment, then turned to me. "Okay, Mayday, whadja do?"

"Benjamin..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I understand. One of those teenage girl things. _Sayonara_."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" I called after Benny. He grinned and shut the door behind him. Jimmy lived two houses down.

Mom switched off the television. I swallowed.

"May, _why didn't you tell me_?"

I glanced shamefully at Mom, then stared at my shoes. The air was hot, and the two layers of clothing made the room almost unbearable. Mom's eyes were glittering, but they weren't tears of sadness. She was furious.

Mom let loose. "May Parker, I can't believe you! Why didn't you tell me? How could you go out there and do something so _stupid_? You could have been killed! Who do you think you are? You're fifteen years old, Mayday! You're still a kid! How could you put your life on the line for-"

"What was I supposed to do, Mom? Just stand there and let them die? Tell me, Mom! _What was I supposed to do_?" I exploded.

Mom's blue eyes blazed. She flung the magazine she hand been paging through on the coffee table with a loud slap.

"You're not going to do that again! You are not Spider-Girl! There _is_ no Spider-Girl! You're never doing that again! Understand? _Never_! Do you hear me? That's how your father got killed!"

Mom seemed to tremble, realizing what she had just said. The words hung in the air, vibrating in the silence.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" I asked finally, in a broken whisper.

Mom didn't answer.


	8. Chapter Eight: Halloween

Chapter Eight

I was laying on my bed, facing the wall and counting the cracks when I heard the door creak open behind me. The light was dim.

"Mayday?"

I grunted. Mom stepped quietly over the clutter and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Mayday, I want to apologize."

I turned. "For what?"

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you like that."

"It's not your fault," I muttered.

"I knew you were keeping something from me when I first told you about your father. I let it go because I didn't want to upset you more."

"I didn't want you to start worrying about me, too."

Mom sighed, and there was a silence for a moment. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Instantly I was alert again. What other secrets could there be?

"Even though I'm upset that you never told me...when I was watching Spider-Girl save those people on the news, I knew it was you. And I was so proud of you."

I sat up and stared at my mother. "You're not mad?"

"Mayday, look at me. Do I look like I'm mad?" Mom reached over and wrapped me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, feeling a prickling at the corners of my eyes.

"Mom, you know how Dad went around saving people and stopping robberies and stuff like that," I said, very carefully. Mom didn't say anything, so I continued.

"Mom, I can, well, I can do what Dad could do. I've got these, um, abilities. And I know if I see something bad happening, I know that I can't just stand there and let people get hurt. I can help people, Mom. So, I was thinking...about joining the family business."

Another silence. Then Mom said, "I can see the sign: The Parker Family, Public Service since 1983. Catchy."

I looked at Mom. She looked at me. Immediately, we both burst out laughing, not of sheer relief, but at a joke. Like old times.

September 24, 2002: _Disaster Averted! New York Cheers Costumed Heroine!_ Rita Merlo, The New York Times

October 1, 2002: _Crime Spree at an End!_ Don Selheimer, The Herald

October 8, 2002: _Bank Robbers Suffering From Spider Bite!_ Emma Slack, Associated Press

October 16, 2002: _Spider-Girl: Who IS She?_ Martin Weiss, Chronicle

October 27, 2002: _The Menace Behind the Mask_ Jerry Mason, Daily Bugle

"Yeah, so, the Daily Bugle says that Spider-Girl is 'just as dangerous as Spider-Man', quote unquote, 'just another bug freak', quote unquote, and 'a shameless hussy', quote unquote. On the other hand, every single other paper in New York seems to think she rocks. You just gotta make up your own mind, I guess. Yeah. Um, thank you." Eric Mashyr, an amazingly tall sophomore, slouched back to his desk with the shreds of last Sunday's paper.

"Thank you for that highly opinionated 'formal' report, Mr. Mashyr," Mrs. Berril remarked icily. "I assume you are familiar with the word 'formal'?"

Eric shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then I'm sure you are aware that a Grateful Dead t-shirt and jeans falling around your knees does not constitute 'formal'?"

"Uh, doesn't it?"

I was busy doodling little jack o' lanterns between the blue lines of my margins when Mrs. Berrill barked, "Any comments on this current event?"

Actually, I had been planning on finishing the Halloween scene bordering my history notes, but I couldn't pass up a chance like that. I raised my hand.

"Yes, miss?"

"How does the Daily Bugle get away with libel?"

Mrs. Berrill blinked at me curiously. "Libel?"

"Yes."

"Well, in most cases, the person being insulted is the one to file suit against the libeler. I don't see how that would, er, work out in this instance. It...Mr. Osborn!"

All hints of sarcasm in Mrs. Berrill's voice vanished as most of the class turned around. I swiveled around in my desk, expecting to see Harry reading or messing with a cell phone. Instead, he was sprawled across his desk, arms dangling, apparently fast asleep.

"Mr. Osborn, are you all right?"

Harry didn't respond. I heard people start to giggle, and I poked him slightly. "Harry!"

Harry jerked upwards so quickly that people around him jumped. "Huh? I'm awake. I'm fine."

Harry didn't look fine at all. He was paler than I'd ever seen him before, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. His hair was tousled, as if he hadn't bothered combing it this morning. He squinted blearily at the teacher.

Mrs. Berrill frowned. "Did you sleep at all last night, Mr. Osborn?"

"Er, I...uh...I think so," Harry said. People chuckled as Mrs. Berrill scowled. With a disgusted shake of her head, she returned to badgering the next unfortunate student presenting.

I leaned over and whispered. "Are you okay?"

Harry stared at me for a moment as if he didn't quite understand the question, then said, "Oh, yeah. I'm okay. I just had a late night. Algebra test. Yeah." He started paging halfheartedly through his notes, not meeting my eyes.

I turned around, perplexed. Harry hadn't been acting right at all for a few days. Just staring blankly into space or making snide remarks when other people asked what was wrong. What was going on? Maybe he was still stressed out about the move and discovering that he was a billionaire. That would probably be enough to unnerve anyone.

I winced as my shoulder twisted. It had been aching for a while, ever since I had tossed a bank robber's getaway van across a street and pulled a muscle. The pain reminded me again of the Daily Bugle article. 'Menace'? 'Dangerous'? I could live with that, but 'shameless hussy'? What was the matter with Jameson? Not to mention that that was the eleventh time I had been referred to as 'bug'.

When the bell finally rang ten minutes later, I opened my mouth to ask him something when Harry stood up and shouldered past me without a word, leaving me annoyed and frankly, a little hurt. Sighing, I stuffed my books into my backpack and trudged out of the class, heading for the nearest pay phone.

"Hi, Mom?"

"Mayday? How was your..._Benny_! Don't throw those in the house!"

Benny's voice came in over the line. "Aw, Mom, I've got to practice with my grappling hooks if I want to be a good Batman!"

"Uh, Mom? Everything okay? You sound stressed out."

"Between my boss's nagging and Benny's Batman act? Most definetly. Are you..." Mom lowered her voice. "Did you plan on going patrolling tonight?"

"Nope. I promised I'd take Benny trick-or-treating, remember?"

"Actually, I didn't. I need to take a nap. Are you coming home now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, I love you. Bye."

"Love you too, Mom. Bye."

"Na na na na na na na na _Batmaaaaan_!" A small figure clad in a black cape and costume bounded down the stairs and nearly crashed into me as I shut the front door.

"Waah! Save it for the Riddler!" I yelped as Benny threw punches left and right going "Hyah! Hah! Hoh!

"It's getting dark! It's getting dark! Why the heck aren't you going to wear a costume? It's Halloween!"

"Uh, what if I comb my hair over my face and go as Samara?"

"Who?"

"Benny, every day of my life is Halloween." I dropped my backpack in a kitchen chair. "Where's Mom?"

"Taking a nap. Let's go! Let's go!" Benny bounced around the kitchen island like a hyperactive rabbit.

"Okay! Just give me a minute, Batman!" I took a quick peek into Mom's room and saw her sound asleep, still in her work clothes. I sadly closed the door and went to look for some paper. Scribbling a quick note, I left it on the kitchen counter and followed Benny to the door.

It was already an hour after dark when the night started to get strange.

We were heading back towards home, chewing on Tootsie Rolls and dodging around other trick-or-treaters when—

_Danger_.

"Ow! Mayday, let go!"

"Sorry!" I loosened my grip on Benny's hand. What was going on? There were dozens of people around, kids, parents. What could be happening?

_Danger_!

I glanced around quickly over Benny's head. Little kids, parents, and a man leaning against the corner. He was tall, thin, in filthy jeans and a torn jacket. Your average street-corner thug. My spider sense wouldn't be going off that strongly for some tough guy on the sidewalk.

We crossed the street, Benny happily chattering while I kept looking over my shoulder. No, I wasn't imagining it. The man was following us.

Feeling adrenaline trickling through my veins, I steered us into a crowd of trick-or-treaters, but the man veered after us, stepping more quickly that he had before.

What was going on? There were plenty of people around, why would some mugger target us? The thug I could handle, but what about Benny? I couldn't fight if things got worse. I had to get Benny home, and fast.

"Mayday, where are we going?" Benny panted as I pulled him along at a jog. "Home's that way."

"Don't worry. It's a shortcut. Don't worry." We cut behind Santorini's Bakery and past a watch shop to the next row of houses. The man shouldered through the crowd behind us, closing the distance with every step.

"Okay, what's going on?" Benny demanded, tugging at my grip on his hand.

"Shhh! It's okay! Nothing!" Relief washed over me as I saw the twinkling streetlamps in front of our house appear as we turned a corner, just a block and a half away. All we had to do was walk in front of the alley and cross the street.

_DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!  
_

It was just then that another man stepped out of the alley, large, heavyset, with his hands in his pockets, smiling. The same type of smile that had been on the face of the man six weeks ago at Midtown.

I heard footsteps scrape to a stop behind us. Thug number one. In a split second, I let go of Benny's hand and shoved.

"Run, Benny! Run! _Run_!"

"What? Mayday?" Benny gasped, eyes widening behind his mask. Maybe he saw the expression on my face, or heard the tone of my voice.

"Go! Run home! Get help! _Run_!" I screamed.

Benny dropped his bag and sprinted at the mockingly distant lights of our house. The second thug turned and started after him. Furiously, I whipped my hands up and fired two lines of web after him, hitting him square in the back. I pulled.

"What th-_aaaaaaahhh_!" The man screamed as he went flying backwards. I caught the edge of his jacket, whirled, and flung him at the thug behind me, sending them both tumbling to the pavement. I turned and dashed into the alley, wrenching my sweatshirt over my head and kicking off my shoes, furious that these lowlife cowards had gone after a little boy, my little brother.

"Hey, get off me!"

"Where'd that kid get to?"

"Forget him! Where's the girl?" I heard low voices and a scuffling at the end of the alley.

"Hey, pal, didn't anyone ever teach you to play nice with the other kids?"

_Thwipp_! _Thwipp_! _Thwipp_!

The thug didn't have a chance to yell before I had a fistful of his collar. With one arm I was lifting him over my head, and with the other I was busy webbing his compatriot's arms against his sides.

"So. What are you supposed to be? Kidnapper? Child molester? Or just your everyday drop-out punk?" I asked conversationally, voice trembling with the effort of hiding my anger.

"Uh...uh...uh..." the aloft thug gibbered senselessly, eyes riveted on my mask.

"Hmm. Never heard that one before." The distant wail of a police siren echoed in the distance. "Hey, I've got an idea. How about if you and your little friend over there just sit tight and play the quiet game until the friendly cops arrive? I'm sure they'll be impressed with your behavior." I punctuated my last word with a blast of webbing that pinned thug number two against the greasy brick wall.

"No, no, it w-was just a j-joke!"

"Tsk tsk. Telling lies. Ten minutes in the corner. March!" I dropped the man, shot a webline at the back of his jacket and swung him into the web entangling his companion, who was quivering in terror.

"You...you're really a...a bug!"

Twelve times! Twelve! I sighed dramatically. "For the last time, the classification is arachnid!"

I bounded over a dumpster to cling to the corner of the building. I gestured to the patrol car speeding down the street, then sprang up to crouch on the roof, watching two police officers jump out and charge into the alley, guns drawn.

Those two weren't going to be following anyone but a prison guard for a long time. Benny must have called the police. I had to get home fast, before anyone started asking what had happened to the sister he had left behind.

As the thugs were pushed handcuffed and sullen into the patrol car, I waved cheekily and called, "Happy Halloween!"

As the car pulled away, I dropped back down into the alley to get my outer clothes.

_Clap_. _Clap_. _Clap_.

What was that? Clapping? I spun. Behind me there was nothing but deep, black shadows. One shadow was leaning against the wall, slapping its palms together lazily. A tingle shivered down my spine.

"Well..._done_." The voice was low, harsh, grating, with just the barest hint of a sneer.

What was this? Who was that? Had he seen the whole thing? Did he know who I was? A thousand questions flickered through my mind in an instant.

The shadow shifted, and I saw the outline of a person, a man. But the outline seemed too smooth, metallic almost. And the head was all wrong, much too pointed and elongated.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Or who is he?" The figure chuckled harshly, almost a cackle. "It's complicated."

I felt myself getting angry again. What kind of game was this idiot playing?

"Aren't you a little old to be dressing up for Halloween? Or is this your usual attire for stalking down dark alleys?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Spider-Girl." The figure spat the last two words venemously. "I've wanted to meet you for such a long time. I could go on and on. But instead, I've got a little question for you. It's hypothetical. Rhetorical."

"Either say what you want or stop wasting my time," I snapped, feeling my spider sense rise along with the irritation of the figure. It began to toss something up and down in its hand like a baseball.

"You call yourself a hero, eh? Then here's the question, Spider-Girl. What will you do when you fail? You know it'll happen eventually. You'll get there too late, miss your leap, not reach far enough to grab their hand. You'll never forget it. You'll see it again and again, over and over, those despairing faces, wondering what you could have done, and how you failed those who trusted you. Those you tried to protect."

The figure stepped backwards, vanishing eerily into the shadows. "You'll suffer. And be prepared, Spider-Girl. What you dread may happen sooner than you think. I swear on everything I am worth, on the grave of the person that was stolen from me, I will make you suffer."

A persistant humming began in the darkness, and I leaped backwards as an indistinct figure shot straight upwards into the air, black against the sky, and out of sight with a roar. The sound faded, and I was alone, stunned, in the silence and darkness.


	9. Chapter Nine: Deja Vu

Chapter Nine

There I was as Spider-Girl, webswinging, somewhere in Manhattan. I flew through the air in a tremendous swing, let go, and started to fall, somersaulting and twirling like a skydiver until I webslung again and went soaring back up into the sky. I laughed and laughed, swinging from building to building, sometimes nearly toucing the ground and then swinging back up fly. People below waved and cheered.

No, that wasn't right. They weren't cheering, they were shouting, waving wildly, pointing to something I couldn't see. There was something wrong! I changed direction and swung around a corner, to a street that was gray and empty. The sky, sunny a moment before, was thick and heavy with clouds. Soundless.

"Hello? Anyone here?" I quickly scaled the nearest building for a better look. Some kind of gothic apartment complex on the waterfront, with a steep gabled roof. Gargoyles leered down at the deserted street below.

What was going on? There was no one here. There was nothing wrong.

_WHAM_!

Something hit me in the back with the force of a wrecking ball, sending me reeling forward. I twisted around and caught the edge of the roof with one hand, gasping at the dizzying drop below.

I couldn't climb up! My hands was slipping and sliding across the rough wall, not gripping at all. Frantically, I aimed and tried to shoot a web line. Nothing.

I pulled with all of my strength, dragging myself upwards, trying to ignore the gargoyles that seemed to be laughing and leering down at me. Wait. That wasn't a gargoyle, was it? Someone was up there on the roof!

"Help me!"

The person leaned forward, and I gasped. It wasn't a person, and it wasn't a gargoyle crouching there. It was something in between, with a face twisted into something between a grin and a snarl, with huge yellow eyes and long, pointed ears. All a shiny, metallic green.

The fingertips of my gloves were being shredded as I clawed at the wall. The creature began to laugh, cackling with sadistic glee, pointing mockingly at me. Then, as I listened in horror, the insane giggling became higher and younger. Wide, rust-colored swaths slashed across the creature's face and body, somehow changing into someone different before my eyes.

Then I lost my grip.

I sat through school that day in some kind of daze, trying to keep the dream out of my head. More than once someone asked me if I was feeling all right. I told them I was fine and tried to look normal and cheerful, but inside was a totally different matter.

Why was I dreaming things like that? I hadn't had a real nightmare in years. But it was so vivid, with colors and details. And that face. I had seen that face before somewhere. But where?

During chemistry class, when I was supposed to be looking up something about Democritus in the encyclopedia, I flipped ahead to 'dream'. It was mostly stuff about Freud and Jung, but one sentence caught my eye.

'Usually interpreted as the subconcious' attempt to clarify or explain an important issue in the subject's life.'

"That was supposed to be an explanation?" I grumped. For a minute I actually considered putting my head down on my desk and catching up on the five hours of sleep I had missed because of a stupid nightmare.

I sat there staring dimly at a page that made absolutely no sense, feeling incredibly lonely as other students happily cracked jokes and laughed with their project partners. This was fourth period, and it was already pretty obvious that Harry was sick or something.

"Who needs to use the library next?" Ms. Garcia called. I halfheartedly raised my hand.

"Mayday? Harry's not here?" I shook my head.

Ms. Garcia raised her eyebrows, looking concerned. "You can go ahead if you need to. Tired?"

I nodded weakly. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"I know what you mean. Hang in there." She wrote me a pass.

Five minutes later, I was in the library. The librarian, a woman with frizzy gray hair who had a name that, after a year, I still couldn't pronounce, blinked at me.

"Parker? Need some help?"

"Oh, yes, Ms...er, ma'am. I was looking for..." I broke off as another idea hit me. "I was looking for information on...um..." How was I supposed to say this? 'I was looking for information on this green gargoyle person who shows up in my dreams and laughs at me. Can you help?'

"I...um...I was looking for information on Manhattan architecture," I blurted out finally. The librarian smiled. "You? I would've thought you'd be looking for something on outer space or a Michael Crichton book."

"It's for a project," I said. Well, sort of a project.

I followed her through the maze of computers, tables, and shelves towards the back of the library. There weren't many people there, being so close to the end of the day. I listened as the librarian pointed out books about everything from buildings of New Amsterdam to the layout of the World's Fair.

"Let me know if you need any more help."

"Okay. Thank you."

The librarian went back to the front desk and I stared at the shelves of books in front of me. I had had this vague idea of finding the building somewhere in these books. I knew I had seen it before, but now I had no idea where to start looking.

I turned around and sighed, staring up at the shelves and shelves of books. This could take me days!

That was when I saw the door set between two bookshelves. A tarnished sign read, 'Archives'. Archives? Newspapers?

I glanced around to make sure no one was looking and pushed the door open with a slight creak. Flipping on the lights, I looked around. It was a converted storage room, filled with neatly labeled filing cabinets. I stepped over a pile of old textbooks and peered at the labels. 'The New York Times, Janunary-June 1995.' 'July-December, 1995.' Curiously, I pulled open the last drawer and leafed through the folders. Newspapers. I pulled one out from early November and coughed in the cloud of dust that came with it.

Hmmm. Almost exactly seven years ago. I flipped the newspaper over and got a shock as I saw the hideous nightmare face grimacing up at me from the front page. The creature, or person, was standing on what looked like a swept back, batlike airborne surfboard, clenching something like a metallic baseball in one hand, and laughing straight into the camera. Behind him was Dad! Dad, gripping a web line in one hand and swinging up behind him, one fist drawn back to punch.

_World Unity Festival Disaster!_ the headline screamed, _Spider-Man Saves Hundreds From Green Goblin!  
_

Green Goblin.

Mouth hanging open, I read on. 'The annual Oscorp-sponsored World Unity Festival quickly became a nightmarish scene when what was at first believed to be part of the show created a life-threatening ordeal for festivalgoers. Early yesterday afternoon...'

It was him. With a surge of horror, I realized who it must have been in the alley last night. The Green Goblin.

But that didn't make total sense, either! This Green Goblin in the newspaper actually seemed a little taller than the one from Halloween. And what had he said to me? 'I swear on the grave of the one who was stolen from me, I will make you suffer.'

I jumped a foot in the air as the bell rang. Quickly stuffing the newspaper back into the filing cabinet, I flipped the lights off and picked up my binder.

I glanced curiously around. There were people rushing into the library instead of rushing out as usual. In fact, they seemed to be crowding around the front desk. Wasn't there a TV mounted on the wall there?

"Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me." I shouldered through a crowd of gigantic seniors and almost knocked over a poor freshman.

"Holy crap," I heard a guy next to me mutter.

I nearly dropped my binder. CNN was on, with live coverage of Times Square. A reporter was facing the camera, screaming into his microphone, while police cars roared past beind him.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing here! It's like it's happening all over again! Spider-Girl! If you're watching, please! Please! Help us!"

That was when the camera whirled upwards at a dizzying speed to point directly into the sky, where a single figure stood aloft on a glider. It was as if the Goblin had stepped off the page and was there, hovering, laughing at the fleeing people and cars below. He was clenching something in his fist. But the costume was differently colored, with wide swaths of orange striping it, like rust.

"_Where are you, Spider-Girl?_"

The Goblin punctuated his last words by spinning around and hurling the object at a brightly flashing advertisement at the top of a skyscraper. It disappeared, seemingly swallowed up by the billboard, then a massive explosion of light and noise rocked the building. The twisted steel remains of a twenty-foot- tall billboard plummeted down.

"_Where are you, Spider-Girl? Come out!_"

Breathing fast, throat clenching, I pushed my way back against the crowds of students rushing in to watch. Outside, in the courtyard, I leaned against the gym wall. Me. This madman was after me.

"Okay, Gobby," I said. "You want to mess with me? You're going to get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for."

I turned and ran for the street.


	10. Chapter Ten: Hobgoblin

Moments later I was in costume, crouching on the edge of the roof of the Millenium Hotel and scanning the streets of Times Square below. It was absolute pandemonium. People were streaming away from the square, running into the street and between cars, looking like ants among pebbles.  
  
  
  
Times Square. Early November. The same as it was seven years ago. From this distance, I could see the flashing advertisements, garish against the sunlight. The news was streaming across the facade of NBC Studios, reflecting on the figure perched aboard his glider.  
  
  
  
He was only a man in a suit, right? Just a maniac who happened to have a glider and a few grenades. I could tackle him, drag him down off his glider, and hand him over to the cops in less than five minutes. He was just another criminal, albeit an airborne one.  
  
  
  
I tensed my legs and sprang from the roof, webslinging from my left wrist and bracing my right arm to grab him from behind. The streets leaped up at me and swooped away again as the web line snapped taut, swinging me upwards towards the figure who hovered with his back towards me, head thrown back, practically giggling at the mayhem he had caused.  
  
  
  
Just ten more feet...five...get ready...  
  
  
  
WHAM!  
  
  
  
"Oh my god! Did you see that? He hit her!"  
  
  
  
"Spider-Girl! Get up!"  
  
  
  
"Wha...what?" I wheezed. People were gaping at me, mouths open, still keeping their distance. I was on the ground! Dizzily I stared around, my head aching. The wall beside me was dented. Particles of dust streaming from inch-wide cracks in the concrete.  
  
  
  
I staggered to my feet, swaying as I tried to keep my balance. He had hit me. Just as I was swinging up to tackle him, he had spun around and punched me in the solar plexus, faster than I could see. One punch had sent me flying twenty feet, hard enough to crack a concrete wall.  
  
  
  
Mayday, you idiot, I thought. Why would Dad have had so much trouble from an average criminal?  
  
  
  
The world was spinning around me, but I caught a vague glimpse of people suddenly sprinting away from me in all directions. Without thinking, I sprang into the air, just as the ground exploded beneath me into a flash of light and shattered concrete. A grenade!  
  
As I scrambled up the nearest wall, the truth finally hit me. That grenade was meant for me. He wanted me dead. He was trying to kill me. Someone was actually trying to kill me!  
  
The figure on the glider rocked with laughter, hugging himself with glee. He spread his hands and made a mocking little bow. "Try again!"  
  
"If you insist!" I bounded from the wall and caught hold of the crossbar of a streetamp. Flipping over it, I landed, whipped up both arms, fired two web lines and wrenched with all of my strength.  
  
The Goblin shouted as the glider flew out from under him, soaring over my head and straining against the two cord-thick web lines that I gripped in my hands. I let go just as the webs pulled tight, and the glider shot off on its own, tumbling end over end in the air.  
  
  
  
I whirled around. Behind me was the Goblin, jerkily climbing to his feet. Up close, the features of his mask seemed even more twisted and grotesque, frozen in a hideous parody of a grin. A reddish line slashed diagonally across the face of his helmet.  
  
  
  
"Even I know that all you need to fix that rust problem of yours is a can of WD-40," I cracked as he finally straightened.  
  
  
  
"You're going to need more than that to fix this!" Another blinding flash of light seared my eyes, sending me backward, clutching at my face. Bright spots blanked out everything around me. I couldn't see!  
  
  
  
Before I could even gasp another breath I was under a hail of sledgehammer blows, pounding me from every direction. Half-blind, off-balance, I swung wildly and felt my knuckles connect solidly with armor.  
  
  
  
"Oof!"  
  
  
  
I staggered backwards, clutching at my face, blinking rapidly behind my mask. My vision was finally clearing, but just moving my eyes made me wince in pain. Where had he gone? I had hit him, hadn't I?  
  
  
  
The wail of sirens and screeching tires assailed my ears as I stared painfully around. The Goblin was on his feet again, wavering unsteadily. Flickering red and blue lights whirled around as at least twenty police officers clambered out to surround him, cocking revolvers and taking dead aim at his chest.  
  
  
  
I leaped back up to the streetlamp, battered, bruised, and embarrassed. That was definetly one performance that I wasn't proud of. I had rushed in, completely overconfident, and made a complete fool of myself. Not to mention endangering the lives of everyone in that square! It didn't matter now, anyway. The police would handle him now. My job was over.  
  
  
  
From my perch on top of the streetlamp, I could see five of the policemen creeping forward, guns ready, reaching out to grab the Goblin. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could sense the expression of sneering amusement that must have been plastered all over his face.  
  
  
  
The nearest policeman, a young man in his twenties, sweating profusely, said, "You're under arrest for-"  
  
"Don't start counting the charges until I'm through," sneered the Goblin. Then he reached over, seized the policeman by his collar and hurled him into his colleagues, knocking them over like dominoes.  
  
  
  
Move!  
  
  
  
I sprang into the air, flipping over backwards just as the glider blew past just under me, weaving around chunks of crushed road and twisted signs as if it had a life of its own. The glider swerved wildly over the crowd of police officers and paused smoothly in front of its owner, hovering a foot above the ground. The Goblin hopped lightly aboard and the glider shot straight up into the air.  
  
  
  
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!  
  
  
  
The police officers were firing, both hands clenched around the handles of their guns, teeth gritted. The Goblin simply hovered on his glider, snickering as the bullets richocheted off his armor in all directions.  
  
  
  
I couldn't get to him now without being shot! Thinking quickly, I webslung up onto the wall of the NBC Studios, sprinted across the edge of the billboard and fired web again, this time connecting with the wall of the skyscraper oppsite. I jumped, swung around, and slammed feetfirst into the Goblin's back, trying to send us both to the ground.  
  
  
  
The Goblin yelled as the glider rocked forwards, yawing wildly in the air. The ground and sky pitched backwards and forwards dizzingly when the Goblin reached over his shoulder, clamped a fist around my throat, and flung me off over his head.  
  
  
  
This was impossible! I couldn't tackle him while he was in the air, and the whole situation was made doubly difficult because of the police officers dashing around beneath me trying to fire at the hovering Goblin.  
  
  
  
Wait! I couldn't drag him down, I wasn't nearly heavy enough. But if there was something that was...  
  
  
  
"Had enough, Spider-Girl? Would you like for me to end this now and spare you further humiliation? Or-" The Goblin stopped in mid-sentence, just as I heaved the nearest patrol car over my head by the front bumper. I felt guilty about destroying public property, but it was all I could do to get this lunatic under control. I tossed it lightly into the air and caught it to adjust my grip.  
  
  
  
"My humiliation? I don't think so," I shouted. I braced my legs, leaned back, and heaved with all my strength.  
  
  
  
The car arced upwards just as the Goblin dropped downwards to avoid being crushed, just as I'd anticipated. The patrol car smashed onto the sidewalk with a screech of twisting metal ten feet away. Now all I had to do was leap for the glider, disable it, and-  
  
  
  
Thwipp! Thwipp! Thwipp!  
  
  
  
Something splattered against my back. My feet left the ground and I was hurtling backwards, away from the Goblin, away from the streets. What the...?  
  
  
  
Cold, gritty concrete slammed against my back and knocked the air out of my lungs with a whoosh. Stunned, I twisted around, trying to figure out what had just happened, and why I was suddenly halfway up the wall of a skyscraper. Something clenched around my throat and smashed me into the wall again, choking me with inhuman strength. I clamped my hands around the arm that held me, straining to force it away from my throat.  
  
  
  
Thwipp! Thwippthwippthwippthwipp!  
  
  
  
In an airless haze, I got the impression of a black shape, with many arms whirling with blinding speed. Then, the chokehold on my neck was gone, and the black shape shot upwards out of my range of vision. Dazedly, in a split second, I caught a glimpse of the Goblin, fifty feet below, standing perfectly still on his glider, with such an air of astonishment that it was almost funny. Then, as if regaining his senses, he kicked the glider upwards and jetted away over the skyline.  
  
  
  
I was still on the wall, but neither the palms of my hands or the soles of my feet were holding me aloft. I was pinned there by something. It felt like thin strands of cord or wire...  
  
  
  
I wrenched my right arm upwards and heard the thing tear loose from the wall. Whatever had dragged me upwards, pinned me to the wall, stopped me from catching the Goblin...  
  
It had used webbing.  
  
  
  
I tore at the strands wrapped around me, ripping the ends from the wall. Webbing. Definetly webbing. But with strands a little thicker than mine.  
  
  
  
I kicked loose of the last strands and wallcrawled up to the roof, whether to look for the Goblin or the second attacker I wasn't sure. The skyline was empty.  
  
  
  
Finally, exhausted, wrenched, and aching, I swung down to head back for the alley where I had dropped my outer clothes. As I bounded down a fire escape and webslung over the street, I somehow picked up the voice of a man standing on the corner, camera dangling from his neck and shouting into a cell phone.  
  
  
  
"Boss, I'm serious! Yeah! Right now! There were two of them! One was the Goblin guy, and the other one...crap, I don't know! It looked like a...a giant spider or something! Yeah, they're all gone now. That first guy isn't the Green Goblin, Mr. Jameson. I know he looks like him, but that's not the same guy. Name? I don't know his name, boss! What? Alliteration? Okay...like the Green Goblin, but not the Green Goblin. How about 'Hobgoblin'?" 


	11. Chapter Eleven: Shadows

Chapter Eleven

"Mayday, where the heck have you _been_? Mom just went looking for you! And you won't believe what's on TV!" Benny came running into the front hall and froze. "This guy just...what happened to _you_? Did you get in a fight?"

"What?" I dropped my backpack and limped over to the hall mirror. The left side of my face, from my temple to my chin was covered in one painful bruise. I could still taste blood in my mouth from a split lower lip.

"Um...yeah. I did."

"Who beat you up? It better not have been a guy. You know, Jim's big brother goes to Midtown. He could beat him up for you if it was a guy."

I smiled. "Thanks, Benny, but I don't think that Jim's big brother could really take this...person...on."

Benny went to the kitchen. "Want the ice pack? How come Harry didn't help you? Why'd you get in a fight anyway?"

"Harry wasn't there. Thanks." I took the ice pack. The bruises would probably be gone by tomorrow morning, but the coldness helped.

"You've gotta come see this. Hurry! It's on again!" Benny and I hurried into the den, where the news was on at full blast. The trusty CNN reporters were commentating on the sealed off Times Square.

Benny vaulted over the couch. "I saw it when I got home. This flying weirdo with bombs just tried to blow up Times Square! And Spider-Girl showed up, and they started fighting! _And Spider-Girl threw a car at him_! Look! There it is! See?"

Benny was pointing at the TV and bouncing up and down on the sofa cushion. On the news was a blurry, jerking camera view that must have been filmed by a running reporter. The camera zoomed in on the armored figure. Hobgoblin. As the cameraman was murmuring, "He's got something behind his back...watch out!" Hobgoblin whirled and flung an object with lightning speed at something out of view. There was a bright flash, and people shouting, and then there I was, staggering backwards, clutching at my face.

"Oh, man! She can't see!" Benny said.

Then the TV-Hobgoblin bounded forward and delivered a crushing right hook to the side of my head, sending me reeling.

"Look at all of those people down there! What's the matter with this creep?" I sat down on the sofa, aching and glaring at the television. What kind of deranged madman would put over a thousand people in danger just to get at me? And I had been stupid enough to rush in there and screw everything up! If I had actually thought it through before acting, Hobgoblin would have been in jail by now and not off somewhere terrorizing someone else!

"There was another one, too! They didn't get very good footage, but it looked like another spider-person!"

"Another spider-person?" I stared at Benny in astonishment. Of course! How many people in New York City could websling? Just me and...

And Dad.

But Dad couldn't have done that! Dad would never have done anything like that! Whoever that was had slammed me against a wall and nearly strangled me!

"Yeah. But a real spider-person."

"What do you mean, a 'real' spider-person? Spider-Girl's a real spider-person," I said, feeling a little defensive.

"Not like this one! This one was all black. Like pitch-black. And it had too many arms."

As the scene switched back to the newsroom, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Benny was staring at me. He had a strange expression on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"How hard did that guy hit you? Who did that, anyway?" Benny pointed to the bruise blackening the side of my head.

_Slam_!

Benny and I twisted around to see Mom hang her coat on the rack. I smiled shakily. "Hi, Mom."

Mom took one look at me, gasped, dropped her purse on the table and rushed into the den. She pried the ice pack away from my face.

"Mayday! Oh my God, how..." I saw Mom's eyes focus on the television screen behind us. The anchorwoman was saying, "What you're seeing here are the first few moments of the fight between Spider-Girl and the person recently dubbed 'Hobgoblin'..."

I saw the color drain from Mom's face. She switched her piercing gaze back to me, but this time her eyes were wide with fear.

"Mayday got in a fight, Mom," said Benny.

"No. Absolutely not! I should never have let you go through with this in the first place!"

"Mom! Mom, just listen to me! I-"

"May Eleanor Parker, I may not be able to climb on walls, but I know much more about this situation than you do!" Mom cast a nervous glance at the dark hallway leading up to the stairs, but all was silent. The wall clock read 12:18.

I threw up my hands. "I can handle him! If it wasn't for that...that thing...I would have got him!"

Mom set her mug down on the table harder than she needed to. "Mayday. You don't know what you're getting into! Do you know who that _is_?"

I shrugged in irritation, scowling. It was just because I had been overconfident the first time. I wouldn't make that mistake again. I could handle Hogoblin on my own. I could capture him. I _would_ capture him!

"That's the son of the Green Goblin!" Mom said, "You have no idea what he's capable of! You couldn't possibly know! The Green Goblin kidnapped me, Mayday!"

"_What_?" I gasped. What was this? No one had ever told me anything like this before!

"Long before you were born. Your father and I weren't even married yet. It was about six months after we had both graduated from high school. The Green Goblin discovered that Peter was Spider-Man and attacked your Great-Aunt May and kidnapped me to get at him. Mayday, that man was just completely, purely evil. He would have killed everyone who got in his way. He threatened to kill a gondola full of little kids to hurt your father.

"Peter rescued me, and then he and the Goblin fought on Roosevelt Island. Only Spider-Man came back. No one ever saw any sign of the Goblin again."

Mom took a deep breath and continued. "Your father rold me about it years later, after I found out who he was. The Goblin died that night. It was a freak accident. Your father would never have killed him. But there was some kind of promise that your father made. I don't know how or why, but he never told me, or anyone, who the Green Goblin was."

_I swear on the grave of the one who was stolen from me...  
_

He was after me for revenge. Hobgoblin was venting his rage on me because I was his only target. He was going to try to kill me, I realized with a chill.

_I will make you suffer...  
_

"I am not going to allow my own daughter to go after that creature. You are not going out anymore. There is going to be none of this Spider- Girl business until this blows over."

I almost fell out of my chair. "Mom, didn't we go through this before? I have to! It's my job! I can't just abandon everybody just because of some-"

"I forbid it!" Mom snapped. "Don't you understand? He isn't stupid, Mayday! He's stronger than you-"

"He is _not_!"

"And he isn't stupid! One slip, one tiny mistake, and he could find out who you are. Then what? It happened to Peter, it can happen to you! Look what he did to you today!"

"My bruises are almost gone," I said.

"Don't change the subject. This is final. I am not changing my mind. Forget it, Mayday. You are not going to go fight him, understand?"

I climbed out my window that night, pulling my mask over my head as I reached the roof. It had been over an hour since Mom's verdict, and she and Benny were both sound asleep.

A nagging feeling of guilt hung over me as I hopped over the rooftops, heading north towards Manhattan. I had finally promised not to go looking for Hobgoblin, but I had never promised anything about not going patrolling for your ordinary, garden-variety criminals.

Still, I knew I was betraying Mom's trust. But what else could I do? I couldn't just take a vacation. I had to be there. I could never live with myself knowing that someone, somewhere had gotten hurt because of my selfish impulses.

I swung over the Queensboro bridge and over Lower Manhattan. Hmmm. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet. Maybe I would have an easy night.

Why didn't Mom think I could handle myself? And why hadn't she told me about her kidnapping or Dad's battle sooner? What kind of promise could Dad have made that would have prevented him from telling Mom who the Green Goblin was? It was too much. Secrets piled upon secrets.

I bounced over skyscrapers in the direction of Central Park, trying to concentrate only on the exhilaration of webswinging. But it wasn't enough. Disjointed thoughts and images were swirling around in my head, making no sense whatsoever.

I took a break on the roof of a high rise overlooking Central Park, the trees a black cloud against the city. There was at least a mugging a night in the park, but tonight I heard and felt nothing.

I yawned. It was relatively quiet everywhere, and the excitement of the afternoon was finally starting to catchup with me. I was contemplating just turning around and swinging home when something caught my eye from below.

Squinting, I released my grip on the wall and dropped about ten stories to get a better look. There it was again. Down in the park, something was creeping with a stilted, skittering gait, scuttling forward, then freezing. It was too large to be a person, and so dark that I could barely separate it from the shadows.

The thing rushed to the edge of the park and paused in the empty sidewalk, silhouetted by a dimming street lamp. I sucked in my breath with a hiss. The thing crouching on the pavement was huge, nearly eight feet tall. I could see what looked like long, straight black hair and the glitter of two large eyes. But what made my stomach lurch was the figure's limbs. It had arms and legs where they should have been, but much too long and thin. But from either side of its torso protruded two more arms, just as elongated and jointed, but still with massive, hooked velociraptor claws extending from the ends of its bony fingers.

It looked like a gigantic spider.

The creature's head swiveled around once again, scanning the street and skies for some sign of danger. Then it tensed its legs and sprang, clearing the entire main building of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in one enormous bound. It glanced around again, then leaped from the roof into the darkness.

I shot a line of web towards the next building and swung after it into the night.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Bargain

Chapter Twelve

Whatever it was, it was a person, I thought. In the back of my mind, there was a nagging, pleading twinge of hope. A spider-person. Someone like me.

Over the city, I swung over the brownstone that I recognized as Harry's new house. No lights shone from any of the windows. The spider-person paused on the roof momentarily, then continued on its jolting ride through Manhattan.

I followed it through the canyon-like skyscrapers, my mind in turmoil. Spider-people. Like Dad, like me. More of them? But how could that be? How many genetically altered biting spiders were running around in this city?

The creature swung up against a curved wall and shot straight up, its arms and legs blurring. I crouched against the wall below, just in time to see it silhouetted agains the brightly lit name that ran in glowing block letters across the tower.

QUEST AEROSPACE, INC.

The spider-person climbed up and vaulted over the roof, and I crept after it. The roof was flat and rough, carpeted in asphalt pebbles. I peered over the edge of the roof, watching. The creature grasped the edge of one of the air-conditioning vents and wrench it off, shoving the six- foot vent out of its way. Then it froze.

I ducked back down, holding my breath as I clung to the wall. Had it seen me? What would it do if it had?

A tiny noise made me look over again. The creature was gone. Only the twisted metal of the vent gave any indication that something was out of the ordinary. Instead, a square hole sat in the middle of the roof. A metallic clattering echoed from the darkness.

I vaulted over the edge of the roof and walked silently towards the opening of the vent. The hole yawned menacingly in the moonlit roof, black against the freezing shades of gray.

My spider-sense was changing from a tingle to a persistant buzz. There was danger down there, in that blackness, whether from the creature or another I couldn't tell. But I couldn't walk away now, leaving all of these questions unanswered.

I took a step forward and dropped, whipping out my arms to stop my fall. I flipped over and began crawling downwards. I could hear nothing but the soft clanging of the metal and the rasping of my breath behind the mask.

Quest Aerospace. One of corporate giants of America. The company that used to own Harry's inheritance. It was some kind of technology-based company. What was this creature doing here?

Down and down I climbed, in a descent that seemed hours long. A fan whooshed to my left. I could hear air rushing through ventilation ducts branching off on either side. The thing could have gone anywhere in this building, I realized. But I kept going straight, keeping to the central duct. I had to catch up with it. I had to know what was happening.

My right hand connected with another wall of thin metal. I felt blindly. The air duct couldn't simply end there. I slid forward against the surface. The duct bent horizontally, leading parallel to the ground. I released my grip and landed, crouched, in a tunnel large enough for me to stand in.

A slitted square of light reflected onto the 'ceiling' from a grill in the middle of the floor. I crept over and blinked rapidly in the light. It was dim, almost like the glow of a desk lamp.

Hmmm. It looked like a cross between an office and a storage room. A white metal desk in the corner of the room was piled high with folders, charts, and printed sheets. A desk lamp was perched precariously on top of a stack of papers. There were no windows, only cold, featureless walls.

My eyes traveled across the room, over the tiled floor and wide shelves, packed with containers and petri dishes marked 'biohazard' and 'danger, handle with care'. The light from the lamp seemed to ooze across the room like liquid, barely illuminating the desk.

_Crash_!

I sucked in my breath with a hiss. My spider-sense suddenly exploded to life, screaming like a siren inside my head. Standing in the corner of the room, half-shadowed, was a person. On the floor in front of it was a sealed graduated cylinder, now shattered into glittering shards on the floor. A clear liquid trickled through the grooves in the tile.

It was Hobgoblin.

As I watched, eyes wide, breath held, he turned around to face the cabinet on the wall behind him. The doors, painted with a huge biohazard symbol were wrenched open, and I could make out two racks of cylinders inside. The tubes hanging in the upper row were filled with a viscous, dark green liquid, and the lower tubes were filled with the clear substance that was dripping from the shattered cylinder on the floor.

Hobgoblin reached forward and removed one of the lower containers, raising it up before the slanted yellow eyes of his mask. Then, he turned again towards my hiding place, lowered the tube, and snapped his fist shut with a crash. The tube exploded in his grip and the liquid dripped through his gloved fingers onto the floor. Contemptuously, he opened his hand and dropped the shards.

I watched with bated breath as he repeated the process again and again. What was in those cylinders? Why was he destroying them?

I could kick this grating out and web him up where he stood. I could...no, wait! My being too quick to act was what allowed him to get away in the first place! I had to be more careful if I was going to catch him.

But then I belatedly realized something else. Where had the spider- creature gone?

"I thought I might find you here."

Hobgoblin froze, his hand reaching for the last container of the clear liquid. He slowly turned, lowering his hand. The snarling mask was partially shadowed, dark hollows in its eyes and mouth giving it a skeletal appearance.

"Who's there?"

A slithering, scuttling rasp came from the opposite, pitch-dark corner of the room. A woman's voice, clipped, clear, and utterly cold spoke again. "Are those something that you don't want to be found?"

I could hear the irregular rasp of Hobgoblin's breathing inside his mask. "Who are you?"

"An enterprising person in need of someone with your particular talents."

Hobgoblin laughed, a harsh, racking sound. "You're wasting your time here."

"I don't think I am," said the voice from the darkness. "You have something I want, and I have something you need."

Hobgoblin snorted. "Something I need?"

"Indeed. The one piece of information that you need to achieve what you desire above all else. Your revenge."

I tightened my grip on the edges of the grating.

"Revenge?" Hobgoblin made a sound of disgust. "Do you believe that someone could actually have harmed me?"

"Not you," the voice took on a suave, persuasive undertone. "You want revenge for another. Someone dear to you, who died at the hands of the one you hate above all others."

Hobgoblin took a step backwards as the voice continued. "You see, Hobgoblin, I know many things. I know all about you, who you really are, and why you want those chemicals destroyed. I know that the man called Spider-Man robbed you of the only close family you had. I know your weaknesses, and your fears. I know that in your rage you lash out at the only person you can."

The voice lowered to a whisper. "What's more, I know the identity of Spider-Girl."

I bit my lip so hard I drew blood. It was impossible! Completely impossible! She had to be lying, telling stories in some scheme to gain Hobgoblin's alliance. There was no way that she could have found out who I was...was there?

I could practically see the gleam of Hobgoblin's eyes behind his mask. "Who?" he hissed. "Who is she? Tell me!"

I reached for the grating. I had to stop this now!

"And why should I do that?"

I paused. Hobgoblin's voice shifted into an animal snarl. I saw his right hand disappear behind his back.

"Tell me now. I'm giving you one more opportunity. Tell me what I want to know, and you leave alive."

The voice burst into a gale of high-pitched laughter. "You would never use that grenade you're holding behind your back, Hobgoblin. If I die, I take my information with me. You wouldn't risk losing that."

Hobgoblin paused. The silence stretched on

"You mentioned a trade. Some sort of proposition."

"I did. Finally, we come to the point." In the darkness, one shadow detached itself and stepped forward. "I said that I needed a person with your abilities. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Intelligence."

"Flattery will accomplish you nothing."

"Very well." I sensed a hint of irritation from the voice. "There's a little job for which I require assistance. The details will be explained later. However, I will hold up my end of the bargain. In return for your cooperation, I will give you the information you want. Along with any assistance you may require to kill Spider-Girl."

"Assistance? Do you think I need assistance to destroy her?" Hobgoblin sneered maliciously.

"You certainly needed it this afternoon," the voice snapped. "Without my intervention you would be in prison or dead. As strong as you are, you are new to this business. If you help me, I'll help you."

Hobgoblin fell silent. I watched, tense, breathless. I could practically see the gears in his head turning. There was no movement from the shadows.

"Come out where I can see you."

The shadow in the corner hesitated, then stepped forwards into the pool of light. I clamped my jaws shut to strangle the gasp that nearly erupted from me. The creature standing there was the thing that I had followed across Manhattan, but in the spotlight its features were thrown into hideous relief.

It was huge, and thin, wearing a jet-black garment with a strange red marking on its chest. Its limbs were long, many jointed, and spindly. The hands attached to each of its six arms were elongated and hooked with wicked, fishhook claws. Its entire body was covered in an armored, scaled exoskeleton. But it was the creature's face that made my stomach lurch. From the top of its head streamed long, black hair, and the face was covered with the tiny black keratin plates. But its eyes were huge, perfectly round, totally black and glittering wetly. The eyes were expressionless and cold. Arachnid eyes.

Below the eyes was a lipless, horizontal slit. As the creature open its mouth to speak, I caught a glimpse of two massive hollow fangs unfolding from its mouth.

"I...see," Hobgoblin said. "Might there be a more personal reason for your interest in defeating Spider-Girl?"

"Not one that concerns you." The woman's voice issued from that fanged mouth. "So...do we have a deal?"

Hobgoblin hesitated again, then gave a short, quick nod. "Done."

The spider-creature took a step backwards, apparently satisfied. "Good. I will find you later to explain the details of the arrangement. As for my end of the bargain, I can assure you that what will happen to Spider- Girl will be the same thing that happened to her father."

I nearly fell out of the duct.

"Spider-Man, eh? You killed him?"

"I didn't say that," the creature said smoothly. "As I said, I will contact you later." She stepped backwards into the shadows, just as I drew back my fist to smash the ceiling open. I would grab that creature, tackle her, pound the information out of her.

_What had she done with my father?_

There was a clank, and the creature vanished from view. The wailing of my spider-sense diminished, still persistant, but not as severe. She was gone.

I had to go after her! I had to find her! She knew something about Dad!

Below, Hobgoblin stared penetratingly into the darkness, then seemed to shrug. He turned and walked away, vanishing back behind the maze of shelves, leaving the cabinet with its single remaining tube of the clear liquid hanging open.

From far away, I heard a distant humming that faded into the whirring of the fans. I was alone. I had been too slow. They were both gone.

I turned and slowly made my way out of the duct.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Check

Chapter Thirteen

_What will happen to Spider-Girl will be the same thing that happened to her father.  
_

_Spider-Man, eh? You killed him?  
_

_I didn't say that._

"Hey, Mayday."

I snapped out of my reverie. "Harry!"

Harry grinned and slid into his desk next to mine. Maybe it was my tension or my jangling nerves that gave me the impression that his grin was too wide. I had climbed through my window just as my alarm clock had started an ear-splitting racket. I had been forced to dive into bed and feign sleep when Mom had come to make sure I was awake.

"Hey. Where were you yesterday?"

Harry blinked, a bemused expression on his face. "Yesterday? Oh, uh, I was...home. Sick."

"Oh. Feeling better?"

Harry nodded. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Much better."

I didn't need to be feeling normal to tell that something was wrong. Harry stuffed his books haphazardly into his desk and sat up straight again. "So, what'd I miss? I'm so messed up in this class it'll take a miracle to get me a D. Are we still on oxidation numbers? Or electron configuration? One of those? Whatever." He said this all very quickly.

I stared at him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. What?" Harry barked a short laugh.

"You're acting a little tense."

"Tense? Naw, I'm okay. Where's Garcia?"

"I don't think she's here today," I said.

Harry was lying. I could always tell when he was lying, and now was no exception. His face tightened and he tended to talk more quickly than usual. He was drumming absentmindedly on his desk as he spoke.

We weren't talking. Not really. This conversation was nervous, forced. What was wrong? What had happened? Try as I might, I couldn't concentrate on what reason Harry could have for lying to me.

_What will happen to Spider-Girl will be the same thing that happened to her father.  
_

I heard it again and again, like a jammed recording. Every time someone nearby made a sudden movement I flinched. Even the sunlight outside seemed too garish and bright.

That creature skulking around the bowels of that building knew something about

Dad. She had even hinted that she had had something to do with what had happened.

I had to find her.

A surge of fury washed through me. She knew! She had done something to my father! This scum had stolen my father, put my family through years of worry and misery and dashed hopes. For what? _For what?_

_Snap_!

"How did you do that?" Harry asked.

"Huh?" I opened my fist and the splintered remains of my pencil fell onto my desk. "Lousy pencil," I said quickly.

What could I do? How could I find her again? She could be anywhere by now. Where did she hide?

Harry shrugged, still drumming his fingers on his desk. The substitute teacher that was rifling through the papers on Ms. Garcia's desk dropped the lesson plan in exasperation. "Okay, kids, your teacher didn't leave anything coherent, so just keep it quiet today."

She had some place to live, a lair. She had to be out of sight, somewhere dark, a place where she wouldn't be found. No normal person would miss an eight-limbed fanged spider-woman in plain view.

Sally Ericson raised her hand and asked, "Can we use the chess stuff then?"

There was a loud mass groan from the jocks in the corner.

"The chess stuff?"

"The chess team meets in here, and there are a bunch of pieces and boards and everything in the cabinet."

"Oh! Go ahead, just keep the noise level down."

"Want to play?" Harry asked.

"Sure," I said.

Harry got up and joined the crowd at the cabinet grabbing bags of chess pieces and rolled up paper boards. I swept the shards of wood and graphite into my cupped hands and tossed them in the trash.

In an abandoned building? Underground, in an old subway tunnel? Those would have been searched by contruction workers eventually.

"White or black?"

"I'll go with white."

Harry poured the bag of pieces over the two desks and sorted through. I collected my pieces and lined them up in their order. A neat row of pawns, then the rook, knight, bishop, king, queen. Little armies.

I moved a white pawn forward one space. Harry lifted his black knight over the row of pawns to counter. Vaguely, in my thoughts, I recalled a line from a book that I had once read. 'Some species of spider can change colors to blend in with their environment.'

What if she didn't look that way all of the time? Was it possible, just possible, that that creature could change, morph from that shape to that of a normal person? It would be as easy as taking off a mask.

Mask. Mask! I was forgetting Hobgoblin! What role was he playing in all of this?

"I haven't played in a long time. Pawns attack diagonally, right?"

I nodded as Harry slid another pawn forward two spaces to block my first pawn. I moved my queen out of the safety of the chess nobility. Direct approach.

"So your Aunt Beth actually let you stay home yesterday?"

"Yeah. For once in my lifetime." The other black knight skipped over the line of pawns. A slow approach, purposefully leaving the pawns in place to protect the important pieces.

It was still that forced, dry chitchat. What was wrong? Was everything falling apart? First Hobgoblin, then Mom losing her trust in me, then the spider-woman, and my best friend. And Dad.

I moved. White queen took black knight. A very straightforward attack.

Harry frowned, and his eyes narrowed. The second knight went back into its original space. A cautious, calculating strategy, waiting for an advantage.

"Did you watch the news yesterday? They didn't show anything else on TV except that bombing in Times Square." White pawn forward two spaces.

"I saw." Black bishop diagonally four spaces left. "The fight.with Sp- Spider-Girl and the guy on the w-wingjet," Harry stuttered. I blinked. I had never heard him stutter before.

White rook forward one space. "Wingjet? You mean the glider?"

Harry didn't respond, only slid his bishop two spaces right and snatched my queen. "Hah! Beat that."

"If you insist." I shoved my rook across the board and took his bishop.

_Danger_.

I flinched. Harry stared at me, down at his vanquished bishop, and back up at my face. "Insist?"

My spider-sense was tingling. I stared back, puzzled. "What?"

Harry's eyes caught the fluorescent lighting of the classroom for just an instant, giving them an eerie glitter. He seemed to shake his head, as if dismissing a thought, then slowly moved his black queen forward three spaces. I countered with a knight.

_Danger_.

"What do you think about all of this?" Harry asked.

"You mean the Spider-Girl versus Hobgoblin stuff? I think it's just the media blowing things way out of proportion."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why would someone just appear out of the blue and decide to start a vendetta against her for no reason?"

"Maybe he has a reason," Harry said casually.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wants to get even for something. Punish her."

"It doesn't seem like she's been around long enough to make many enemies."

Yeah, right, I thought privately. "Hobgoblin just decided one day to become bitter?"

"He could have found the guts, or the will, and the means to do something."

Probably so, I thought. Still, it seemed strange. Why had it taken Hobgoblin so long to begin exacting his revenge? Had he been plotting it for all of these years?

"Good point." White rook to the right six spaces.

_Danger_!

I shook my head slightly. Why was my spider-sense going off here, of all places? School, where normalcy was embedded in the very walls.

It was true, though, what Harry had said. Hobgoblin needed all of that technology, the suit, glider, and grenades. But that didn't explain his phenomenal strength.

Still, where could he have gotten all of that equipment? Could he have invented it himself? Or had he bought it, or maybe stolen it from someone else? It would have to have been an engineer, or an engineering company...

Quest Aerospace. Of course! Quest Aerospace was a huge supplier of technology to the United States military, I remembered that much. Where had I heard that? Something in the paper, probably.

I absentmindedly shifted my queen to the left. Aha! The paper that I had read at school with Harry, months ago. The big article about his inheritance. Quest Aerospace used to be OsCorp, the company that Harry's father had owned.

At that moment, both my spider-sense and intuition exploded to life. My mind whirled, fitting pieces together like a complex jigsaw puzzle.

Hobgoblin somehow got into Quest Aerospace the night before. Hobgoblin wanted revenge for someone who had been stolen from him. The Green Goblin had fought Dad and disappeared. Hobgoblin was the son of the Green Goblin. Hobgoblin had access to technology through Quest Aerospace, which used to be OsCorp. It was merged with another company after the owner, Harry's father, had died. How did Hobgoblin get access to Quest Aerospace?

Through an inheritance?

My breath caught in my throat with a soft wheeze. Harry looked up. "Mayday?"

It fit. It fit all too perfectly. I knew who Hobgoblin had to be. He had given himself away with one tiny slip. But I didn't feel relieved or triumphant. I felt nothing. I thought nothing. Nothing but one single, horrified sentence.

Oh, my God.

Yes, I knew who Hobgoblin was. He was sitting right in front of me.

Harry slid his black queen forward across the board in a single movement and glanced up smiling.

"Check."


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Playing Games

Chapter Fourteen

I seized a chunk of concrete and flung it viciously. It shattered against the steel wall of a building with a sound like a gunshot. I had left school during lunch. According to the neon clock blinking across the street, I had thirty minutes to get back before the bell rang. It was freezing. I wondered vaguely how Dad had survived the winters dressed in a spandex costume like this. Another gust of wind nearly shoved me from my perch. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered.

How could this have happened. Why did it have to be Harry. Why had Harry done all of this. How could he. How could he.

I thought in a stunned, emotionless monotone. Nothing seemed quite real, not the cold, the shock, nothing. The-

"Hey, look! It's Spider-Girl!"

_Click! Flash! Click! Flash!_

I threw up my hand to shield my eyes from the flashing of the group of camera-wielding tourists, grinning and snapping pictures of me in a flurry of clicks.

"_Will you stop that_?" I roared. Seething, I released my grip on the railing of the observation deck and dropped straight down the side of the Empire State Building. There was no privacy anywhere.

I sat down again on the edge of a roof, regretting my shouting. It had nothing to do with them. Harry. It all came down to Harry.

"What did I do to you," I said. "You were my best friend. I never did anything to you. Now you go and do all of this because of your father. It wasn't my fault. You were my best friend."

A black wave of rage and sorrow and betrayal swelled up in me, making me want to scream and cry at the same time.

"What did I ever do to you?" My voice rang back at me over the noise of the traffic, again and again, like a cruel mockery.

At that moment, I wished that none of this had ever happened. I wished that I had never known anything, never had anything to do with this. I wished that Dad had never been bitten. I wished that me, Mom, Dad, Benny, that we could be a normal family who worried about normal, everyday things like jobs or homework. Not treacherous friends and half-arachnid monsters out to kill us.

I flinched as a slew of police cars tore down the street below me, sirens wailing loud enough to deafen the officers inside. Ten police cars, followed by five ambulances.

Oh, _no_.

I fired a line of web and swung down, landing lightly on the roof of the last ambulance. I don't think the paramedics inside noticed. I could hear the driver shouting into his walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, I know, I know! Oh..." He cursed vehemently. "Damn it! Subway tunnels don't just decide to cave in, you idiot! What the hell is going on? Casualties? What?"

A lump formed in my throat. Casualties were serious injuries. Maybe deaths.

The procession of cars and ambulances whipped around a corner to a squeal to a stop in front of a subway entrance, and my blood froze in my veins. People were crying, covered in dust, swarming out of the subway in panic. But above...

"Oh, hello, officers. Just a little accident, you see. I didn't quite realize just how delicate those tunnel supports are."

Sitting on the windowsill of a neighboring apartment complex was a creature that provoked strangled gasps from the police officers jumping out of their cars. Black-scaled, eight-limbed...

"I offer my most sincere condolences," the creature continued in a ridiculously capricious voice. "Spider-Girl? Is that you? So glad you could join us, dear. After all, I think that the air might be running out soon for someone you care about."

She smiled, a hideous sight of unfolding fangs, then sprang from the windowsill and webslung out of sight.

I jumped from the roof of the ambulance, much to the surprise of the paramedics. Clouds of dust were floating up from the entrance to the subways.

"The fire trucks are on their way."

"They've got about ten minutes of air left. The trucks aren't going to get here in time!"

I could feel the gazes of the officers and paramedics burning holes in my back. Ten minutes of air. The trucks would be too late. Someone I cared about.

I ran into the dust, clearing the stairs in a single bound and stumbling on chunks of loose rock on the tiles. The platform was totally empty. I ran past the shops and booths, searching wildly. No one.

The tracks. Of course! I turned a corner and skidded to a stop, eyes wide in horror. A gigantic tear in the concrete ceiling of the tunnel gaped like an open wound. Sparking electrical cables dangled from the hole, nearly touching the pile of rubble three times my height blocking the tracks.

She had collapsed the tunnel!

Gasping for air in the stifling dust, I scrambled up the mountain of concrete, seizing the first chunk of rock. I flung it aside and heard it shatter on the floor below. I worked like a machine, grabbing rocks larger than I was and hurling them aside. I was dimly aware of the people below, paramedics, policemen, and ordinary passerby prying at the rocks at the bottom of the pile, shouting instructions and encouragements to each other.

I shoved another boulder out of my way and was greeted by the white face of a man in a conductor's uniform on the other side of the shattered window. I motioned at him frantically. "Move away!"

He nodded shakily and shuffled backwards into the first car. I drew back my right fist and smashed a hole on the glass. Ignoring the slicing pain in my hands, I gripped the edges of the hole and pried the glass open.

"Hey in there! Anyone hurt? Hello?"

"Yes! We've got a man in here with a broken leg! He's bleeding real bad!"

"Okay!" I leaned backwards from the hole and shouted at the paramedics below. "There are people hurt in here!"

Ladders slammed up next to me as the paramedics and firemen answered. I slid into the hole in the windshield, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness. Only the emergency lights were shining. It seemed as if all of the passengers were crammed into the first car. Some of them recoiled as they saw me.

"I'm not going to hurt you! Come on! Sorry, ma'am." I gently picked up a protesting elderly woman and spun around to see the dust-coated faces of two firemen.

"Here! Give her here!" The firemen took hold of the woman's arms and helped her crawl out of the hole.

I pulled people out one by one, all pale and trembling, and handed them to the firefighters outside. Next the bleeding man. Men, women, and small children. One of the last people out was covered from head to foot in black dust, gasping for air and limping.

"Mayday?"

It was Mom.

Before I could react, the firemen reached in and pulled Mom to safety. I grabbed the last passenger, a man in a business suit, and helped him out.

The ruined terminal was crammed with people now, most of them in dark jackets with the letters EMS on their backs. I let my breath out in a whoosh as I saw Mom being handed to the care of two paramedics. I ached inside, hating myself; I couldn't go down there to help her.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard a policeman below shout into his walkie-talkie.

"Hobgoblin sighted on Fifty-Second, now reported heading for the harbor! Repeat, Hobgoblin-"

"The suspect is to be apprehended unharmed! Suspect is outside now over the viaduct, moving north. Suspect is described as...shoot...uh, uh, around eight feet tall, six arms, black suit with red hourglass-shaped marking..."

"Explosion on a charter boat going past Staten Island! It's Hobgoblin! Hobgoblin has been sighted..."

"We've got a four-alarm! Four-alarm fire in the Bronx! Street address is..."

It sounded like an eruption of static and crackling voices from almost every single radio in the terminal.

A voice from a fireman's radio shouted, "Hobgoblin is now heading for Manhattan! Repeat!"

"Suspect given as Black Widow has taken a hostage! No! Several hostages! Correction, several hostages!"

They were playing games, I realized. Hobgoblin and this 'Black Widow'. Jumping around from place to place, causing disaster after disaster...

I skiid down the pile of rubble and followed the group of firemen sprinting out, taking one last look at my mother being treated by paramedics.

"You're not going to win this one, Harry."


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Madness

Chapter Fifteen

Almost an hour later I was huddled under the gable of a brownstone across the street from the general hospital, arms wrapped around my knees. I was shivering uncontrollably, so hard that I probably looked like I was having a seizure. I was freezing and dripping with water. My soaked costume clung to me like a second skin of ice. I could barely breathe from my coughing.

There had been an explosion on a tour boat. One of those little dinner ships that circled the islands. I had hitched a ride on a Coast Guard helicopter out to the waters near Staten Island.

A fresh gust of frigid wind blasted me again.

I gave another shudder, one not from the cold. Water. Freezing, black, terminally deep water that would pull me down and down, to crushing, suffocating depths...I didn't understand it. I couldn't stand the thought of swimming anymore. Why not? I had been an excellent swimmer before.

Hobgoblin had already disappeared by the time I had arrived. One of his grenades had blown an eight-foot hole through the hull. The ship had been sinking. I had helped pull people to safety just as the boat had disappeared beneath the waves.

Then, dusty, dripping, and exhausted, I had webswung across the city to the Bronx. Black Widow-

That name hissed through my mind like a curse. Black Widow. Black Widow. Black Widow.

Yes, Black Widow had set fire to an apartment complex in the Bronx. She had herded the people to the roof where they could watch the fire creep up from below, screaming for help and sobbing with terror. Then she had run away. Just run away laughing.

I had crawled up there and down for each person, all sooty and miserable from their ordeal and the loss of their homes. The fire department had put out the fire. The entire building had been destroyed.

Black Widow. Hobgoblin. Black Widow. Harry.

They had put my mother in the hospital, wrecked a subway, sunk a tour boat, and burned a highrise to the ground. All for what? To get at me.

Mom had a fractured ankle. I had clung to the wall outside of her room, straining my ears for any word from anyone. She had been given medication to help her rest. And I couldn't go down there to see her. I couldn't go to see my mother in the hospital because Mayday Parker couldn't possibly already know what had happened.

My mother was in the hospital, my best friend was determined to kill me, a monster was stalking me, and hundreds of people had been put at risk. For this. Because of me. Because of Spider-Girl.

I hooked my fingers under the edge of my mask and wrenched it off. Blank, swept-back eye patches stared back at me. I clenched my fist, compressing the fabric. Spider-Girl. Right. Spider-Girl was a myth. An urban legend. All there was of Spider-Girl was a teenager in a costume who had just managed to cause her mother to be injured and hundreds of people to be endangered. Spider-Girl was only the cause of danger and misery and destruction, a pale, pathetic shadow of her father.

I knew I had to get indoors before I froze to death. I knew I had to get Benny before he got home to an empty house. I knew I had to call Gramma Watson, and Mom's work. But all I could do was sit there, arms wrapped around my knees, mask off, trapped in my own guilt and misery.

_Danger_.

I ignored the warning tingle. I didn't care.

_Hummmmmmmmmm_.

Adrenaline shot through my veins in an instant. I knew that sound. I had heard it too many times to mistake it for anything else. I jerked my mask back down over my head. The humming subsided.

"Awwwww, did Spider-Girl have a bad day?"

The voice came from just over my head. I didn't look up. I could see his shadow on the wall opposite, the shadow of Hobgoblin stepping down off of his glider onto the gable. Harry. I could still hear his voice through that harsh, grating, twisted parody of speech.

"Silent treatment, eh?" Harry snickered. I heard a faint slapping sound, as if he was tossing something up and down in his hand like a baseball.

"What happened to you," I said flatly.

Harry caught the grenade but didn't toss it again. "What?"

"What happened to you? Why are you doing this? _Why are you hurting people to get at me?"  
_

Suddenly I was up, leaping into the air, tackling him, full of a rage that I didn't know I possessed. Harry swung at me, roaring wordlessly. I caught his fist and wrenched, sending him smashing into the wall of the adjoining building. I grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming him against the wall again, hearing the back of his helmet strike the wall with an audible crack.

I reached forward and grabbed at his face. My fingers connected to the mask and clung as I ripped the entire helmet off of his head. I didn't know why. Maybe I had needed proof; maybe I had to see for myself, to convince myself that it was true.

The face of Harry Osborn stared back at me, his skin a sickly gray, his eyes wide and astonished.

"Wh-wh..._what_?"

Suddenly his face contorted, twisting into a snarling echo of his mask. An insane light flared in his eyes. Before I could anticipate, he pulled back his fist and smashed me in the head, sending me whirling around and stumbling backwards.

"Is this what you expected?" Harry snarled, half derisive, half furious. "Well? Do you know whose face this is, Spider-Girl? Do you know whose family your father destroyed? Both Osborn's...and mine?"

_Osborn's…and mine?_

"_He killed my father!_" Harry screamed. He looked completely insane now. His eyes were almost glowing with reflected light. "I swore that you would be the one to suffer! Just the way Osborn had suffered until he created me!"

I stepped backwards as Harry advanced, horrified. Harry had gone crazy. Totally insane. His voice continued to rise in pitch, in a hideous outpouring of mad rage.

"Yes, Spider-Man killed both Osborn's father and mine, that night," Harry hissed. "And Osborn would never have had the guts to do what I've done. He was too weak, too cowardly to avenge his father. That's when I stepped in. I had been watching, waiting, ever since the little accident that released me. I took control and met you on Halloween. I attacked in Times Square to lure you out."

In a flash, I realized that this was a much longer speech than Hobgoblin had ever made before. What was he doing? He was trying to distract me!

_DANGER_!

I sprang into the air just as a flurry of bullets tore into the gravel beneath me. I clung to the wall and whirled just in time to see the glider jet away again, somehow maneuvering on its own. Twin gun barrels protruded from under each wing. It circled, then came to a stop, hovering at the right height to step on.

Harry, if that was really who was standing in front of me, slowly lowered his helmet back onto his head, snickering. "What should I say now? 'We'll meet again'?" He hopped onto the glider with an agility that didn't fit his appearance.

"No, because there won't be a next time!" I whipped up my right arm and fired a web line that hit Hobgoblin directly in his yellow eyes.

"_Aaaaaarrrrgh_!" He reeled backwards, clawing at his face. His glider shot straight upwards as I jumped, catching hold of one wingtip and flipping upwards onto the glider. It rocked wildly.

He wasn't going to get away from me this time. I had him here, now. Whatever it took, I would drag this glider down!

"Get off!" Hobgoblin swung at me just as the glider lurched over the side of the roof, spiraling out of control towards the ground. The street below spun in a nauseating whirl, closer and closer-

_CRASH_!

"Aaaaah!"

"Hobgoblin!"

"My car! What did…what did you _do_ to my car?" a strangely familiar voice squawked.

I scrambled out of the twisted wreckage of what had been until recently a very fancy car. Standing a few feet away was a man with a wild white hair, a briefcase, cigar, and a look of utter indignant astonishment plastered all over his face.

"Spider-Girl?" J. Jonah Jameson gibbered, his cigar threatening to desert him.

I turned around just in time to see Hobgoblin send the front half of the car flying with a kick. The plummeting glider had sliced Jameson's car open like a tin can. Ripped metal and slashed plush seats had landed directly at the feet of the editor-in-chief and owner of the Daily Bugle.

"H-H-H-Hobgoblin?" Jameson howled. He pointed at us wildly. "You're in this together! Just the second generation! And you..._you blew up my car_!"

In spite of all that had happened, the accidents, fear, and anger, I couldn't resist adding, "That's it exactly, Mr. Jameson. Our evil plot has culminated in the destruction of your car."

Jameson started to splutter. "Why you little—"

"Shut up, Jameson," Hobgoblin growled. Jameson's eyes widened and he began inching backwards. I turned towards Hobgoblin, tensely eyeing him, waiting. What would he do now? All around us people had stopped in their tracks, gaping at the situation but not fleeing. I could practically see Hobgoblin's eyes flickering about behind his mask.

If I charged him now, he would use a grenade or his glider. There were people all around us. They were all too close! I tried to stifle my growing frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Another screw-up from Mayday.

I tried to dredge up the anger that had burned in me only moments before, but I couldn't. All I felt was a drained, mind-numbing exhaustion. And pity. Pity for my best friend, Harry Osborn, and this...this thing he had become.

Hobgoblin snorted. He must have realized the reason for my hesitation, because he pointed at me challengingly. "Don't worry, Spider- Girl We'll finish this soon. But _I'll_ choose the time and place."

Crouching on his glider, he rose slowly up into the air and drifted forward. I didn't move as he brought his face inches away from mine and hissed, "_You're not rid of me yet!"  
_

"I'll be waiting," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady and confident. "And we'll see what you're made of, you abominable monstrosity. Now go run back to Black Widow, like a good little lackey."

I tensed as Hobgoblin let out an animalistic snarl. His right hand disappeared behind his back. Then, without warning he spun and jetted away, leaving a thin trail of exhaust in his wake.

"What are you doing? You just let him get away!" Jameson shouted.

"Oh, shut up, Jameson," I said wearily. Ignoring the stares and whispers of the onlookers, I webslung up to the roof without another word. I crossed the roof and took one last glance through the window of Mom's room. The blinds had been closed.

I had to get home. School was out by now, and Benny would be arriving at a deserted house if I wasn't there. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I began to feel the cold and dampness again. Sighing, I stepped off the edge of the roof and swung from building to building down the street.

'Until he created me'. 'The little accident that released me'. What could that possibly have meant? Was he saying that he wasn't Harry, that he was someone else? And when I had first pulled off his mask, he had looked different. Frightened, even terrified. Then his face had almost morphed into a semblance of Hobgoblin's mask.

Split personality? Schizophrenia? People didn't suddenly develop serious mental disorders.

_The little accident that released me.  
_

I could think of only one place where this could lead. Quest Aerospace. I was going back to Quest Aerospace tonight.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Doc

Chapter Sixteen

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Parker is asleep right now. I know that you must be upset-"

"'Upset' is an understatement. She's my mother! At least tell us where her room is!" Benny and I were standing at the front desk of the hospital where Mom was staying. I had swung home as quickly as I could to change and tell Benny what had happened.

The hospital receptionist shook her head, tapping at her keyboard. "I know that this must be a terrible ordeal for you and your little brother, but I can't allow it. Mrs. Parker can have no visitors until she has been questioned by the police."

"The police? Why?" Benny hoisted himself up on his elbows on the counter to glare eye-to-eye with the receptionist.

The receptionist stared at him as if he were a nuisance disorganizing her desk. "You don't know?"

"Not the details," I said quickly.

"She was in the subway attack. Spider-Girl and this other monster blew up the central terminal in midtown."

"_Spider_-_Girl_ blew it up?" Benny asked, astonished.

"Of course she did. Freaks like her are always behind things like this. Mrs. Parker was injured in the subway." She kept tapping her keys, apparently more interested in hospital records than our questions.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying what was on my mind. Instead, I said, "Look, our mother is hurt. If you don't tell us where she is, I'm going to go up and down this hospital until I find her room. Let's go, Benny." Benny hopped down and I took his hand. "We'll find Mom. She's on this floor."

I led Benny around the counter as he stuck his tongue out at the receptionist. "Visiting hours are over, miss. You can't go to the patients' rooms now," Keyboard Woman said sharply.

"Watch me." I didn't look back.

"Miss, I will call security! Miss!"

"Whoa, do you think she will?" Benny asked as we hurried down the thinly carpeted hall, searching for 'Parker, Mary Jane' on one of the doors.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" A man with a badge clipped to his jacket was lounging against the wall next to a tightly shut door. As he straightened, I saw another man and a woman sitting in waiting chairs, arms crossed, both with badges.

"Down the hall," I said, trying to get a glimpse of the folder on the door. The man shifted again, and I saw , 'Parker, M'.

"Are you the police?" Benny asked.

"What's it to you, kid?" the first man asked, seemingly amused. I didn't share his levity at all.

"Because you're leaning against my mother's door," I said icily.

"Visiting hours are over...um, May," the woman said, flipping through a manila folder stuffed with papers.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"We have some questions for your mother," said the other man in a bored tone. "Just about the accident and all."

"Oh, all right. Then we'll wait here with you." I steered Benny over to the row of chairs opposite the detectives. They looked none too pleased by our company, and I didn't care at all.

"So Spider-Girl blew up the subway," Benny said tonelessly.

"She did not!" I said, so loudly that the three officers turned and looked at me curiously. I lowered my voice and whispered, "It was that spider monster that was on TV. That's what I heard."

"It doesn't matter. Didn't you hear all of that stuff that the cameras caught her and Hobgoblin saying last time? They're both after her."

Benny scuffed the heels of his shoes against the carpet. "All of this stuff is happening because they're trying to get Spider-Girl. This is all her fault."

I swung over Queensboro Bridge, thinking hard and hoping that Grandma Watson wouldn't wake up before I got back. She had come over to stay with us until Mom came home tomorrow. I always liked visiting her, but hearing her rail against Spider-Girl that evening had almost sent me into tears. My own grandmother.

Manhattan Island loomed up in front of me as I swung over South Street Seaport and paused momentarily on the mast of one of the beached sailboats. Even in the middle of the night, South Street Seaport was bustling with activity and blazing with white, artificial light. People doing early Christmas shopping, no doubt.

"Is that Spider-Girl?"

I sighed. The last thing I needed was a crowd of tourists flashing cameras in my face-

"_Aack_!" I twirled around the mast by a halyard as the woman below hurled a chunk of loose concrete at me.

"What's your problem?" I shouted angrily.

The gray-haired woman snarled, "Get out of here! The last thing we need is another disaster!"

"Yeah!" A street vendor left his pretzel ice stand. "Wherever you are, something bad happens! Go away!"

I climbed up to the tip of the mast as the crowd beneath me gathered. People were furious, shouting at me, even throwing things.

"This is all your fault!"

"Why don't you go make trouble for someone else?"

"_Freak_!"

I dodged another well-aimed rock and sprang from the mast. The crowd below yelled and scattered as I swung a meter over their heads and over the highway.

First my brother, then my grandmother, and now the rest of the city hated me. I could have just stopped, found an alley corner, sit down, and never move again.

It was all true. Why had Harry become Hobgoblin? Because I showed up as Spider-Girl. Why was Black Widow wreaking havoc? To help Hobgoblin punish Spider-Girl. Why was my mother in the hospital? Because Spider-Girl hadn't reached the subway in time. Why were the lives of thousands of people at stake? Because Spider-Girl existed.

My fault. All my fault.

The Quest Aerospace building suddenly appeared out of nowhere around a corner. I vaulted up to the roof and paused, waiting for my spider-sense to start tingling. Nothing.

Ten minutes later, I was standing over the grille of the ventilation duct, over the same room that I had eavesdropped on Hobgoblin and Black Widow. From the angle I was standing, I could only see the rows of shelves and the small pool of light from the desk lamp. The cabinet was tightly closed. Where there had been a mess of shattered glass and spreading clear liquid, the floor had been swept clean.

Well, I had come for answers. But now what could I do? I crouched down and pulled the grating out. Setting it to the side, I dropped feet first into the room below.

"Aaah!"

I whirled. Oh, no.

At the file-stacked desk was a tall, African-American man in a lab coat was standing there, his swivel chair still turning. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"Do you work here?" I countered, wondering whether I should just hop back up and wait until he left.

"Yes, I do. Why?" the man asked tersely.

"I need your help." I hesitated, then crossed the room and pulled open the cabinet door, not realizing that it had been locked. I mumbled a hasty apology and fitted the twisted lock back into the door clumsily.

Inside the cabinet were the two test tube racks. The top row was filled with eight vials of the clear, dark green liquid. But the bottom row was empty, save for one tube of the clear liquid, marked "O17492".

"It has to do with these," I said, turning around.

The man in the coat glanced from the open cabinet, to my mask. "It's about Harry, isn't it."

I blinked, taken aback. How did he know? "How do you know that?" I asked aloud.

The man shook his head grimly. "Because Harry Osborn is Hobgoblin. You already know that, evidently."

I reached into the cabinet and carefully removed the last tube of the clear liquid. "Yes, I do. And he was the one who broke in here and destroyed the rest of these. Why?"

The man rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. "That's a very long story, um, Spider-Girl."

I shrugged. "I don't have any later appointments, do you?" I hopped backwards to land crosslegged on one of the metal shelves behind me.

"Fine." The man fumbled nervously for his swivel chair and sat down. "I've known Harry Osborn ever since he was a little kid. I'm a doctor, and I worked with his father, Norman Osborn. He owned OsCorp at the time, and was also heading the biochemical research department. We were working on a product. A performance enhancer.

"Everything was going great for a while. We had funding, the test results were as expected, everything. Until some of the animals started showing side effects."

I bristled at the mention of the animal testing, but I kept quiet to let the doctor continue.

"The animals started exhibiting behavioral changes. They became very violent and agressive. Some of the primates even showed what could have been some kind of chimp split personality, if you can imagine that. It looked like the side effect of the performance enhancer was induced schizophrenia.

"Anyway, I was all for pulling the plug on the whole thing. The formula would take months to rework, and we simply didn't have enough money to start all over. But Osborn only dismissed the side effects, always insisting that they were only an abberation.

"It didn't make any difference. We lost funding. After that..." He shrugged. "I don't know the details. All I know is that in the days that followed, another scientist was dead, some company technology had been stolen, and exactly one cylinder of the enhancer was missing. A few weeks later, the Green Goblin appeared."

"So he used it on himself?" I supplied.

"I think he did. And it drove him to insanity. A while later, the Goblin disappeared, and Norman Osborn was reported to be dead. Afterwards, OsCorp was bought by Quest Aerospace. They tried to cover up the whole thing, firing people left and right and such. That's how I ended up down here, to keep me quiet.

"I do know that about...oh...four years later, the flight suit and glider turned up again. I think they were found by some construction workers in an old warehouse, or something like that. Quest confiscated them immediately, and stored them down here, too." He waved vaguely in the direction of the shelves.

"That should have been the end of it. But then some lawyer or other found Osbrorn's will. He left everything to Harry, you know. So a few months ago Harry and his aunt were taken around the company building on a sort of tour." He chuckled briefly. "I don't think Quest Aerospace was too happy about any of it, but they couldn't do anything else. Part of the company belongs to them, after all."

He stopped, and seemed to age before my very eyes. "It's totally, completely my fault. I admit it.

"I've known the family for several years, even before Harry's mother took off. They came to talk to me. I was talking to Beth McKay, Harry's aunt, about...I forget what. Harry was wandering around here, looking at stuff. I told him to stay away from the larger boxes, and he said, 'Sure'.

"So I was talking to Beth when I turned around, and there was Harry at that cabinet..." He pointed. "Pulling out one of the green tubes. I yelled, 'Don't touch that!' He jumped, and dropped it."

He closed his eyes. "It smashed on the floor right in front of him. The formula goes into its gaseous phase when it's exposed to air.

"We both ran over and pulled him away, but he was already coughing and choking. I started yelling at the interns to call an ambulance, but they were so slow that I ran to the desk phone and dialed myself."

He leaned forward, his head in his hands, and continued.

"He looked like he was having an epileptic fit. Beth was trying to get him to stand up, but he was shaking to hard. The interns ran over and tried to give him water, but he kept choking and spitting it out.

"It seemed to last for hours, but the paramedics got there and took him to the hospital. Beth called me later to tell me that the doctors said that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Harry. She sounded so relieved, and I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that Harry had only inhaled enough to make him sick for a few minutes. But I was fooling myself.

"It all comes down to that chemical in there, Spider-Girl. That's what's destroying Harry now, the same way it destroyed his father. And I caused it to happen. Now there's nothing I can do."

I sat in silence, absorbing what I had just heard. An explanation, the reason behind Hobgoblin. Almost.

"Then what's that?" I pointed at the tube of clear liquid that I had placed back into the rack.

The man straightened, and I could sense the tiniest bit of pride coming from him. "That," he said, "was something I came up with, when the project was still on. I put that together in the early stages, when the formula was being developed. I thought it would be best to have on handy, just in case."

I leaned forward, barely daring to believe it. "Is it an antidote?"

He shook his head. "No, not quite. More like a treatment. I was working on reversing the side effects, not the actual formula. It only-"

I bounded off the shelf to the cabinet. "Are you telling me that this could cure Harry?"

Of course! Hobgoblin had been smashing the cylinders of the clear liquid. He must have known what they were. If Hobgoblin was an alternate personality of Harry's, then he would have figured out that they posed a threat to his survival. So he had tried to destroy them. And he had left one, only because Black Widow had spoken...

He raised his hands warningly. "No, listen to me. It's never been tested. It could be just a dud. I don't know if it has side effects. For all I know, it could worsen his situation."

I was too hooked on the possibility of saving Harry to worry. "This is Harry's only chance. What else is there to try?"

The doctor looked about to protest some more, but he paused and said, "All right, you have me. But how can you get it to him? I don't think Hobgoblin'll take kindly to your smashing it in his face."

"I could care less what Hobgoblin takes well. Will it work?"

He shrugged. "In open air? Who can say?"

I ground my teeth in frustation. "Wait...would the anti-..._treatment_ work in a liquid phase?"

"It could...are you thinking...?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Do you have a syringe I could borrow?"

He gaped at me. "Are you saying that you're just going to tackle him and stab him with a syringe? Just like that?"

"What else can I do? Is there any medical stuff in here?" I pulled open the lid of a plastic container and peered in, seeing only a stack of paper folders.

"Yes, there is. Just a minute," the doctor muttered, striding past me into the maze of shelves. He returned a moment later with a small cardboard box filled with cellophane. He set it on his desk and brushed away the wrapping, revealing a box of sterile unused medical supplies.

"Now, remember, try not to break the needle. I don't know how you're going to jam it through his armor, unless you pull of his helmet or something. This syringe should hold enough formula to do the job. I hope. Here."

He pulled a plastic wrapped medical syringe from the box and handed it to me gingerly. I quickly crossed the room and carefully removed the tube of clear liquid again. It was about the size of your average test tube, and stamped with an identifying number. I turned around.

"Thank you very much, er..."

"Doctor Robert Hiller."

"Doc Hiller," I amended. He blinked.

"You're welcome, Spider-Girl."

"I'll be leaving now, then. Thanks again." I backed away to stand below the open square in the ceiling.

"I hope you succeed, for all of our sakes. Good luck."

I nodded, and leaped straight upwards into the ventilation duct. Sliding the grating back into place, I practically shot out of the duct and was on the roof in five minutes.

I was grinning under my mask. It was all right. Everything was going to be all right. I could do this, I could save Harry. And this whole ordeal would be over. I stepped to the edge of the roof and froze.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw a huge, eight-limbed shaodw scuttle out of sight below.


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Just Like Me

Chapter Seventeen

"Look at her! She should be ashamed of herself!" Grandma Watson waved disgustedly at the television. The morning news was on, with the top story being yesterday's string of disasters. The camera focused on me, hauling people to safety from the sinking tour boat.

"Putting all of those people at risk! Doesn't she have any conscience? Could you hand me those eggs, dear?"

"Sure, Grandma." I handed her the egg carton. We were both standing over the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, and making french toast. I flinched every time Grandma made a remark about Spider-Girl, though I couldn't really blame her. She had every right to be angry.

Grandma and I dipped slices of bread in the bowl of egg as Benny poked his head in through the door. "Grandma, Mom's on the phone! She says-"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Grandma hastily wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "May, could you watch the toast for a moment?"

"Yes, but I want to talk to her too."

"Me too! Me too!"

"Of course, don't worry! I'll give you two the phone in a moment." Grandma hurried into the den. Benny bounced onto the sofa. "Can I change it?"

"Go ahead." I eyed the toast in the oven uneasily. "Benny, do you know if french toast is supposed to go black in the oven like this?"

Benny shrugged, his eyes already riveted on the latest episode of Batman. "If you burn it, we can just dump a lot of syrup on it."

"I appreciate your confidence." I pulled on the oven gloves and opened the door, determined to at least attempt a proper rescue of the toast.

"No problem, dearest sister. And...hey!"

"We interrupt this program to give you a special report," said a deep voice from the television.

"Awwww, come on!" Benny groaned. "It was in the good part!"

"This applies to the entire city. Hobgoblin has been sighted-"

"Yeow!" I dropped the flaming hot pan on the tile of kitchen island. Pulling off the gloves, I vaulted over the back of the sofa and landed sitting, eyes locked on the screen.

The scene switched to a newsroom, and then to a jolting, bouncing handheld shot of a green-and-orange blur jetting past overhead, leaving a thin trail of exhaust in its wake.

I gripped the edge of the sofa cushion. Harry. Starting round two of the game.

"Please do not leave your homes at this time, if at all possible. The police dpeartment has reported that the island is probably his primary target. There have been no confirmed sightings of Black Widow-"

I drew in my breath. Now. It was going to happen now. I would have to catch up with him somehow, with Doc Hiller's treatment. Now.

"Hey, where're you going? Mayday!" Benny scrambled to his feet as I dashed upstairs. Grandma glanced at me curiously from the den as I raced past. Covering the reciever with her hand, she said, "May, what happened? Are you all right? Ben, what's wrong?"

"I dunno!"

I bounded up the stairs, taking them at least five at a time. Benny stumbled after me.

"Mayday, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"Nothing! I'm okay! Just..." I made a split second decision to take the risk. "Tell Grandma that I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got to...get something fixed."

I shut my bedroom door just as Benny hollered, "Are you going to go out your window or something? What the heck is going on?"

I crossed to my dresser and wrenched open the bottom drawer. Under pairs of pajamas lay my folded costume, swept back eyes glinting dully up at me. I pulled it out and tossed it onto my bed. There, underneath, was the sealed cylinder, and the wrapped syringe. I picked it up gently, not wanting to take any chance of cracking it.

"Mayday, why are you acting so _weird_?" Benny shouted, so loudly that I'm sure the neighbors heard.

"Benny! Stop banging on my door!" I yelled as I changed, quickly pulling my mask down over myhead. I snatched up the tube and syringe and headed for the window. The morning was cloudless, cold, and bright.

I paused on the windowsill, the realization of what I was doing suddenly breaking over me. I would only get one shot at this. This was one mission that I couldn't mess up. Harry's life was in my hands, and I couldn't let any overconfidence or anger put him in jeopardy.

I hopped up onto the roof just as Benny pushed my door open. I heard him say, "Mayday, are you on someth--...Mayday?"

_I really should have webbed that door shut_, I thought with a smile. Turning, I bounded towards Manhattan, cylinder and syringe clenched in my hand, hoping that I had the skill to do what I needed to do.

Dad could have done it, I thought. He would have had no problem.

I didn't webswing. I leaped from building to building, freezing if a passerby glanced upwards. I couldn't risk being seen by Hobgoblin, or Black Widow, if she was somewhere nearby. Webswing was too noticeable.

I groaned mentally. This could take me hours. Manhattan island was huge, with innumerable hiding places. I scaled the wall of the nearest skyscraper building for a better view of the city, stopping just below the edge of the roof. It would be a matter of sheer dumb luck to find Harry in this.

"_Shut up, Osborn!"_

I jumped as my spider-sense suddenly exploded to life, along with the voice coming from the roof above me, out of sight.

Well, score one for sheer dumb luck.

My spider-sense faded. I shook my head. What was wrong? Hobgoblin couldn't have disappeared so quickly.

"Liar," said Harry. "Liar, liar, _liar!"_

I clapped a hand to my forehead as my spider-sense burst into action again. What was going on? It had never flickered on and off like this before.

"I told you to shut up!" Hobgoblin roared. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do, eh, Osborn? Trying to distract me?"

My spider-sense stopped buzzing abruptly. "You thought I'd go along with _this?_" Harry yelled. "How long did you think you could fool me? Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" His voice melted into a sneer. "You really think any of this will work? It won't."

Spider-sense on. I clutched the sides of my head. If this went on much longer, I was going to fall.

"Oh? And I suppose you're going to stop me? I'm not the weakling of our little pair, Osborn. Who's the coward who's too afraid to avenge his father?" Hobgoblin sneered.

Spider-sense off. "_Leave him out of it_!" Harry hissed.

I could barely believe my ears. Harry had to be talking to himself, but there were two different people on that roof, hurling insults at each other. Moving quietly, I snapped off the cap of the up, and peeled off the plastic wrapping of the syringe.

Hobgoblin laughed. "Pitiful. Utterly pitiful. Where you would be without me, Osborn...I shudder to imagine."

I slowly filled the syringe, draining the entire tube. The treatment glittered wetly inside the syringe. I nearly dropped them both as my spider- sense flared on even more forcefully. What could-

"I'll admit, I've never heard an insult battle before that was quite like _that_," another, hissing voice spoke from the rooftop.

Black Widow! She must have scaled the other side of the skyscraper.

"A minor exchange of ideas," Hobgoblin snapped. There was no trace of Harry in his voice anymore. "Why are you here?"

I could hear the smile in Black Widow's voice. "I've held up my end of the bargain, Hobgoblin. In two days time, you will hold up yours."

"You came up here to remind me? I told you I would get it, and I will."

Get it? Get what? I strained my ears over the rushing breeze around me, and also despairing my hasty plan. How could I take on both of them at the same time? Without losing the formula?

"Procuring it will present some difficulty, even for you..._what's this?"_

Black Widow's voice rose to a roar. I sprang out of the way just as a massive, clawed fist smashed into the concrete wall behind me, leaving a basketball-sized crater in the concrete. Black Widow was crouching on the edge of the roof, growling viciously at me.

I webslung from my left hand and backflipped up onto the roof. Black Widow whirled and sprang from her perch, crouching and spreading six claw-tipped arms. "Don't you know that it's rude to eavesdrop, Spider-Girl?"

I struggled to keep my voice controlled. Hobgoblin was on his feet a few feet behind Black Widow, mask on, glider hovering, clenching what looked like a silvery, razored bat in his hand. "You're one to talk." I closed my fingers on my right hand, hiding the syringe behind my wrist.

This was going to come to a fight. Black Widow was talking, but I wasn't paying attention. I kept my eyes locked on Harry. I would have to pull his helmet off, and inject him in the neck. The needle would only break on his armor. But how could I get past Black Widow?

Could I distract her?

"Talk, snarl, talk, snarl. Is that all you ever do? What happened? Did some mean ol' spider bite you and put you in a bad mood?"

Black Widow threw back her head and laughed. "You have no idea how true that is, Spider-Girl."

"Aw, poor baby. Maybe you should go take a nap!" I whipped up my left arm and fired directly into Black Widow's face. With a hideous, ululating screech, she stumbled backwards, clawing at her face. _Works every time,_ I thought.

Hobgoblin was watching Black Widow with something close to amusement when I lunged at him. I had to keep him from getting onto that glider!

"_What_?" Hobgoblin slammed his fist into the side of my head. White flashes exploded in my vision, put I forced my hand forward and wrenched his mask off of his head.

Hobgoblin glared, snarling like an animal. "Feeling unoriginal today, I see. Are..."

His eyes flew open wider than I had ever seen before. They flickered from my face to my right hand. As I watched, an expression of complete terror blanched his face. He had seen the formula!

"Oh no you _won't_!" Hobgoblin drew back his arm and hurled the razored bat at me.

"_Aah_!" I leaped into the air. The bat blew past my face in slow motion, missing by a fraction of an inch. Still in that state of slowed time, I reached behind my head, I twisted in midair and clenched my fingers around the bat, ignoring the searing pain in my hand. I squeezed. The shards of the metal bat clattered to the rooftop as I landed. I shot a webline at Hobgoblin's chest and wrenched, jerking Hobgoblin off his feet before he could even blink. I slammed him into the railing.

"No! You can't kill me! I have a right to live as much as Osborn does!" Hobgoblin shrieked.

"No, you don't! You're not real! All you are is a collection of Harry's anger! That's all you'll ever be!"

"Oh?" Hobgoblin shoved his face into mine, eyes stretched wide, teeth bared in an insane snarl. "Go ahead," he whispered softly. "I know what you have. Go ahead. Take your revenge. I'll never be gone. Osborn will never be rid of me. And do you kow what else?"

Hobgoblin hissed, "Do you know what this makes you, Spider-Girl?" His voice thickened with unimaginable venom. "This makes you _just like me_!"

_This makes you just like me.  
_

I froze, horrified. No, it couldn't be true, could it? I was trying to save Harry, not-

"Now here's _my_ little trick, Spider-Girl!" Black Widow's voice erupted from directly behind me. Before I could turn, or even realize-

"_AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH_!"

A scream burst from my throat as I felt five claws tear into my back, shredding cloth and skin. Almost in reflex, I pushed the syringe into Harry's neck and squeezed.

"_Noooooo_!" Hobgoblin screamed.

A pair of huge hands gripped my shoulders and hurled me to the side, slamming me into the gritty asphalt rooftop. I screamed again as my back hit the roof, gasping for breath, eyes squeezed shut. The pain was burning, slicing. I reached over my shoulder and nearly screamed again as my fingers brushed my back. My hand came away wet with blood.

She had clawed me, from my right shoulder to my left side. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, only choke and gasp. Bleeding. I was bleeding. Blood was soaking the shredded back of my costume.

Black Widow began to laugh.

"So easy. So pitifully, pitifully easy. I thought you were going to be a challenge, Spider-Girl. A worthy foe. But what do I see before me now? A little girl. Not even fit to compare with Spider-Man."

I stumbled to my feet. I had to get out of here, webswing, anything...distantly, I heard Black Widow mutter to Hobgoblin. "What's wrong with you?"

I couldn't see. I had to get away. I had to get help. I had to...

I staggered to the edge of the roof, air wheezing in my lungs. I tried to aim, but the buildings wavered around me as if they were underwater. I pulled my middle and ring fingers in slowly, feeling a sharp, shooting pain as the web line fired and connected the the opposite skyscraper.

"Run away, Spider-Girl, it doesn't matter! My venom works quickly! Within an hour you'll see for yourself!" Laughter. "If you're still alive!"

I fell, clutching the webline with all of my strength. The world was dissolving into a shimmering blur. Through my muddled conciousness, between flashes of agony, I knew one fact: I had to get to the alley. Where I kept the spare clothes. I couldn't let anyone find out, not even now...

"Spider-Girl! Wait!"

Voices. I was hearing voices...or one voice...I couldn't tell...

I swung again and again, mechanically, nearly fainting from the searing slashes in my back. There...there it was...I had to get to that alley...

"Spider-Girl!"

I clipped the corner of the building and spun out of control, crashing into the rusty fire escape and tumbling down to the ground.

Backpack...under boxes...had to...

Blood, my blood ran down my back, dotting the ground. There, the backpack I had left. Behind the pile of boxes, I blindly tore off the shreds of my costume, pulling on a sweatshirt and jeans.

I had to...I had to...couldn't think...

I stumbled forwards, heading doggedly for the square of light at the end of the alley. I heard a loud humming, from somewhere above.

"Spider-Girl? Is that you?"

Voice...behind me...familiar...who...

"Spider-Girl! I'm going to get you help, just-"

Two hands took hold of my shoulders and spun me around. I heard a disbelieving gasp.

"_Mayday_?"

Who was it...couldn't see...couldn't...hurts...so tired...

"Mayday, it's me. It's me! Stay with me, Mayday! Stay awake! Mayday! Mayday!"

Voice...pain...blood...

My knees buckled and I fell into a swirling, bottomless darkness.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Claws

Chapter Eighteen

"She's very lucky to be alive, Mrs. Parker. She lost a tremendous amount of blood. It's amazing that she survived. Those claws barely missed her spine."

"Oh, thank God. But what about the poison? You said something about-"

"Yes. We've had five emergency cases since yesterday, from that attack in the Bronx. That monster's claws are venemous. The poison control people downstairs tried using a general antitoxin for spider venom, and that's what we gave May here."

"Then she'll be all right, Dr. Torres?"

"I hope so. There have been some other symptoms-"

"Symptoms?"

"Effects of that venom on other people."

"What effects?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I remembered...I had tackled Hobgoblin, and a ripping pain across my back. But after that...nothing.

"Well, extreme weakness and fatigue. Anemia. Memory loss."

"_Memory loss_?"

There were voices...voices and a bright, bright light against my eyelids. I turned my face away, only to feel a thin pillowcase against my cheek. A jolt of pain slashed across my back, but it seemed dulled, far away.

"What...goin'...on?" I asked. My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt thick. The room slid slowly into focus. Bright, sterile...a hospital room. I was lying on my back in a hospital bed.

"Mayday!"

"M-M-Mom?" I croaked. Mom limped over from the door, leaning two crutches. The doctor was standing at the door, holding a clear plastic clipboard. 

A wave of panic engulfed me. I was in a hospital. A hospital! I couldn't go to a doctor! It wouldn't be hard for them to spot something unusual, like the spinnerets in my wrists! 

"M-Mom!" I gasped. "I can't...they know-" I grabbed my right wrist convulsively.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay," Mom whispered, glancing at the doctor. "Mayday, oh god, Mayday...you're all right. You're all right!" Mom hugged me tightly. I saw tears running down her face. I bit my lip, feeling the corners of my eyes prickle.

"I don't care how many degrees you have, you can't keep me from seeing my granddaughter! Get out of my way!"

"Ma'am! Ma'am, you can't just-"

"She's my sister! Let us in!"

"People, please! You have to wait outside in the lobby!"

"Doctor, hi, I'm Beth McKay. My nephew here brought Mayday in-"

"Where's Mayday? Is she okay? Black Widow-"

A babble of voices came from the door. Mom turned around, and I saw my entire family trying to force entry, along with Mrs. McKay, and...Harry!

I felt a chill. Was he cured? Or was it Hobgoblin standing in the doorway? Had I done it? I couldn't remember...

Dr. Torres might have been strict, but she was no match for my grandmother. A moment later she had pushed past the doctor and was standing beside my bed, grabbing my hand.

"May Parker, what on earth were you _thinking_, leaving like that? And...and..." Grandma's lower lip trembled.

Benny ran around the other side of my bed, wide-eyed. "We...we thought you were gonna die."

"Mayday, what happened? How did this-"

"Excuse me!" The doctor shouldered past Harry's aunt and started herding everyone out the door, including Mom. "This girl has just come out of surgery! She needs peace and quiet!"

"No, w-wait, I'm fine," I said feebly. "I'm...okay." I pushed myself into a sitting position, gritting my teeth against the pain. "See?"

Dr. Torres gave me a look of extreme skepticism. "You can talk to your family later, after you've had some rest. You're severely anemic, May. The last thing you need is stress. Er, no offense to you all," she amended, seeing the expressions of everyone. Mom looked upset, Benny looked stunned, and Grandma Watson looked ready to go on the warpath. Mrs. McKay crossed her arms and scowled, and Harry?

Harry, behind everyone else, was pointing to the inside of his wrist and shaking his head. I couldn't read the expression on his face. He was pale, with a look between fear and sadness and anger and shame...

"At least let me stay with her!" Mom protested, hobbling backwards on her crutches as Dr. Torres ushered them out. Grandma hurried over to support her.

"May needs sleep! Out! _Out_!"

Dr. Torres closed the door behind her, just as Harry shouted, "Mayday! I have to tell you-"

_Click_.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next time I opened my eyes the streetlamp was shining through the cracks in the venetian blinds. The clock read 9:46.

I sat up in bed. "Owww!"

I winced, feeling the back of my hospital gown scraping against my bandages. Those cuts must have been very deep. I had been attacked almost twelve hours ago, and they still weren't healed.

I kicked my blankets off and sat on the edge of my bed. The door was shut, and the floor was ice cold beneath my bare feet.

Had Mom and everyone else gone home? Mom was supposed to have been released today. Even though I didn't want them to sit out there all night, I wished that I could let them know that I was all right.

I blinked. I had heard Mrs. McKay say, "My nephew here brought Mayday in..." Harry? Harry had brought me in? How? How had he known? How had he found me? How...

I shook my head. After the pain, everything else was a jumbled mess of noise and images, like scattered fragments of a movie reel.

If Harry had brought me in, then the treatment must have worked! Hobgoblin was gone! But why had Harry been gesturing like that? And what had he tried to tell me?

I stood up unsteadily, taking a few tentative steps. What had Harry been doing, pointing at the inside of his wrist?

I looked at my wrist. Same as always, irregular star-shaped white areas, web-shooters. I marveled at how the doctors hadn't noticed. If they had, wouldn't police and reporters have put me under house arrest by now?

Harry had been shaking his head. What did that mean? Experimentally, I bent my middle and ring fingers inward.

Nothing.

I frowned, and tried again, expecting a line of web to shoot out of my wrist. Nothing happened.

Throat clenching, I tried my left wrist.

Nonthing. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

Frantically, I whirled around and rushed to the wall, slapping both palms against the paint. I had to be able to wallcrawl. I had to!

My hands slid down the bare wall.

"No..."

I stumbled for my bed, grabbing the metal posts underneath. This bed could only way a few hundred pounds at most, with all of the medical equipment. I heaved, sweat beading on my forehead, straining. The bed barely slid an inch.

I grabbed the sleeve of my hospital gown and wrenched it up to my shoulder. I saw muscles, just the same as this morning. My legs were the same. But I felt weak, exhausted.

I couldn't shoot web, I couldn't wallcrawl, I couldn't even pick up a hospital bed.

"No. No!" Panic gripped me. Icy sweat ran through my hair. This was a nightmare. This had to be a dream. I was still asleep. That had to be it! I leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, ignoring the pain in my back.

Then, as if in that very dream, a fragment of memory drifted through my head.

_"Run away, Spider-Girl, it doesn't matter! My venom works quickly! Within an hour you'll see for yourself! If you're still alive!"_

Her venom.

Harry had tried to tell me a few hours ago. Hobgoblin must have known what Black Widow's venom would do to me. The same way I now knew.

Spider-Girl wasn't alive anymore. She hadn't survived. There was just me, Mayday, the girl under the costume.

Because my powers were gone.


	19. Chapter Nineteen: History Repeating

Chapter Nineteen

_One Week Later  
_

"Mayday! Dinner's ready. And Mom says we can start on the tree. Get down here!" Benny hollered up the stairs.

I turned the page and copied into my history binder, _The Assyrian king Ashurbanipal collected the largest library of clay scrolls in the ancient world. _"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a second," I muttered, having no intention of being down there at all.

Benny kicked my door open with a bang. "Will you stop with the stupid studying? That's all you do now!"

I didn't look up from my history rextbook. "I've got chemistry and history finals tomorrow. I've got to study."

"_Damn it_, Mayday!"

My head snapped up. Did my eight-year-old brother just say...

"You stay in your stupid room all day and study out of a stupid textbook! You don't talk to anyone! What's wrong with you?" Benny exploded. His face was nearly the color of his hair, and he was glaring furiously.

I stared at him. He hadn't thrown a full-fledged tantrum for months now. Yet here he was, unleashing a torrent of anger that had been building for who knows how long.

"Ever since you got hurt, you act totally different! Did that posion damage your brain or something?" Benny shouted. "Don't you know how much everbody's worried about you? Don't you even care?"

"Get out of my room, Ben."

"All you care about is-"

"You don't know anything!" I screamed, "At all! Not you or anybody! Now get out!"

Benny backed away into the hall and shouted, "I know that you don't even-"

I shoved away from my desk and slammed the door in his face. The room fell quiet, except for the snow pattering wetly against the window.

I stumbled over to my bed and collapsed facedown, not wanting to move or think. Studying about molecules or Mesopotamia all seemed ridiculously trivial. What was the point? What was the point of anything?

Let's see...my mother was in a cast, my little brother hated me, and this December twenty-fourth would be the anniversary of my dad's disappearance.

Merry Christmas.

I flopped over on my back, only flinching a little. The doctors had all marveled at how quickly the gashes had healed. Apparently my spider-powers had done me one small favor before deserting me. I hadn't bothered to go pick up my shredded costume. I had two spares in the back of my closet, but I hadn't even looked at them.

Mom knew. Of course Mom knew. I had told her, the day I was released, and watched pure relief seep over her face. No more Spider-Girl. There had been four months of worry and fear, wondering whether that night there would be a mugger's bullet with my name on it. Four months of her terrified that I wouldn't come home. But it was over.

"What could I have done?" I said to my pillow. "Oh, what was I supposed to have done?"

I could be normal again, with worries no more serious than an upcoming math test. My family was what mattered, and my friends. I should have been relieved. I could be a normal girl again.

But all I felt was emptiness.

The phone jangled right next to my ear. I fumbled for the reciever, knocking several pencils and knickknacks to the floor in the process. "H'lo?" I growled.

"Hey, Mayday."

I sat up. "Harry?"

"Yeah. Look, I need to talk to you. It's important."

"What?" I asked dully.

"I don't think the lines are safe. I'm there."

"You're where?"

"Here, actually."

"Harry, what are you-"

"Go to your window, okay?"

I sighed and got up, stretching the phone cord. The snow had stopped falling. "Going. Looking. Seeing nothing."

"Opening it might help."

I unlatched the window and shoved it up. "So...?"

"Aw, come on, Mayday, it's not that hard. Look left."

I looked left and dropped the receiver. Harry was sitting on the edge of my roof, grinning at me and looking as normal as ever. He shifted, and in the light I could see that he was wearing armored, green gauntlets that reached up to his elbows. He snapped his cell phone shut.

"Harry! What the...what are you doing here?" I hissed. I shoved the window up all the way and gingerly stepped out onto the sill and over the edge of the roof. An action that was second nature seemed unsteady and dangerous.

"Like I said, the lines aren't safe. How have you been? I mean, are you all right and everything?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," I said, sounding more sarcastic than I meant to sound. I felt a stab of guilt. I sat down on the roof.

"I...uh...I never got to thank you for...uh...you know, getting me out of there," I said lamely.

Harry's grin disappeared. "Oh, uh, don't worry about it. Besides, you saved me too. You stopped m...I mean, you stopped Hobgoblin."

I shivered in the cold. "Is he really gone?"

Harry turned and stared out over the rooftops. "Sometimes...when I get angry, I can feel him. He can't talk to me anymore. But he's right here, inside. He isn't gone. He's waiting."

Silence. Harry jerked his head slightly, as if shaking off a thought. "I talked to Doc Hiller. He gave you the treatment, right? He's working on a more permanent one."

I couldn't think of anything to say. Harry turned back to me. "I still can't believe it. You're Spider-Girl." What was that in his voice? Admiration? Or sadness?

"It's a little hand-me-down from my dad."

At the words 'my dad', and expression flickered across Harry's face so quickly that I couldn't read it at all.

"Not anymore," I continued, a heavy bitterness creeping into my voice.

Harry fidgeted, but didn't respond. What was there to say?

"Black Widow," Harry said. "After you left, she said, 'That's the last time that little...'" Harry coughed, "Er...'girl will be webswinging again. Isn't it amazing how history repeats itself?'"

"That's what you wanted to tell me?" I said bitterly.

Harry stared at me. "Mayday, did you hear me? 'Isn't it amazing how history repeats itself'!"

_How history repeats itself_, I thought dully. Yeah, who knew how many people she had clawed, and sent to the hospital? There couldn't be many people out there that she could rob of their powers...

I sat up straight. Only one other person that she could have robbed of their powers. I remembered a single sentence, from a time that seemed eons ago.

_What will happen to Spider-Girl will be the same thing that happened to her father.  
_

My mind whirled, fitting the two pieces together. Black Widow had slashed me, injecting me with a venom that sapped my abilities. The same thing that had happened to my father. I gaped at Harry.

"Black Widow must've attacked my dad! All she would have had to do was claw him once, and-"

"He would have lost his superpowers," Harry said quietly.

"It's just like Black Widow said in Quest Aerospace. When Hobgoblin was smashing the antidote."

"Yeah. Wait a minute, how do you know that?"

I forced a grin and made a little bow. "I currently hold the title for eavesdropping champion of America. I was hiding in a ceiling vent."

Harry groaned. "Oh, man. What else have you been listening in on? Meetings at the Pentagon?"

"Nah, nothing that advanced. Just spider-mutants and armored loons."

"Don't diss the armor! This stuff has its uses." Harry stood up and backed a few feet up the roof. "Observe."

He stretched his arms out in front of him, covered to the elbow in the gauntlets. He closed his fists.

My eyes widened as metallic scales spread from the ends of the gauntlets, unfolding and unfolding with mechanical whirs. The green plates spread up his arms and over his entire body, rippling like water. The armor built itself up to Harry's neck and solidified with a sudden snap.

I blinked, astonished. "I stand corrected. A technologically advanced armored loon."

"That's an improvement. Listen," Harry said, becoming suddenly serious. "This is important. Black Widow doesn't know that I'm not...that Hobgoblin isn't around anymore."

"She doesn't?" I asked.

Harry pulled the Hobgoblin helmet from behind the rooftop gable. "There was a deal between them. Basically, Black Widow would help Hobgoblin go after you, and he would help her get something."

"What?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Hobgoblin was supposed to meet her tonight, down at the factory at the harbor. The empty one."

"You're going to pretend to be Hobgoblin, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "I think I can pull it off. Come on, go get your costume on."

I held up my hands. "Wait, wait. What?"

Harry gestured impatiently. "We've got forty-five minutes to get there, and you're going to have to find some palce to hide so you can hear."

I couldn't believe this. "Harry, in case you haven't noticed, Spider-Girl is dead. I can't webswing. I can't climb walls. I can't do anything. Don't you get it?" My voice rose as the dam broke, releasing a week's worth of pent-up anger and frustration. "There's just me! Mayday! Not Spider-Girl! Understand? I'm nothing! I'm a nobody!"

I wrapped my arms around my knees. Harry was crazy to even think about it. Hah, just plain old Mayday, a weak, slow, normal teenaged girl. Not brave, not strong, not smart.

"Don't you get it, Mayday?" Harry said, looking bewildered. "Listen to yourself. What the heck are you talking about? Spider-Girl isn't a costume. She's not a set of superpowers. She's _you_. You're the one who's saved the lives of hundreds of people. You stop the disasters. You protect New York. You, Mayday Parker, Spider-Girl. Who else is going to take on Black Widow? I can't. Mayday, I don't know what it is, but she's planning something. Something big. It's not just about getting you. It's something worse. And you've got to be the one who's smart enough to stop her."

Harry set his jaw, looking like he was about to say something terrible. "What would your dad have done?" He blurted out.

Dad.

I realized what an effort it must have taken for Harry to say that. He knew that Dad had been Spider-Man. He knew what had happened to his own father, and what he had been.

If Black Widow found me, I wouldn't last ten seconds. One blow could break every bone in my body. Then she would know that Harry was acting, and turn on him. We would both be killed.

I stood up on the roof. "Stay here." I slid carefully back into my window and closed the blinds. I headed for my closet, where the two spares hung in the back. Complete copies of my old costume.

When I had pulled my mask over my head, I grabbed a notepad from my desk and scribbled a message.

"I need to help a friend. Please don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can. Mayday."

When I stepped out a moment later, Harry was holding the helmet in his hands, staring down at the nightmarish features carved from the metal.

"You know me too well," I said. "Harry, I can't webswing. How am I supposed to-"

Harry raised his left wrist in front of his face and flipped open a tiny keypad from the gauntlet. I turned and saw the Hobgoblin glider rise dramatically over the edge of the roof, completely silent.

He grinned lopsidedly. "Osborn. Harry Osborn."

"You have _got_ to be kidding."

Harry lifted the helmet, hesitated for a split second, then finally lowered it over his head. His voice was muffled. "There's room for two." The glider floated over to hover a foot above the rooftop, right between us. Harry stepped aboard. "I'm pretty sure I know how to work this thing."

"Pretty sure? _Pretty_ sure?"

"Yeah, I wasn't the one flying this thing before."

"Oh, great," I inched forward over the sloping rooftop. The tiles were slippery underneath my feet. I think I missed my wall crawling ability most of all. Harry pulled me up behind him.

"Okay, hold on."

"Whoa!" I barely had time to grab Harry's shoulders as the glider blasted straight up twenty feet into the air, whirled dizzingly, and jetted off at an incredible speed towards the lights of Manhattan.

"I can't wait until Jameson gets a load of this."


	20. Chapter Twenty: The Warehouse

Chapter Twenty

The warehouse was an abandoned, hulking building on the waterfront, covered in grafitti scrawls and greasy soot. Most of the windows were missing panes, and no light shone from behind them. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself against the cold.

"Okay, you got any good ideas?" Harry asked.

"Me? I thought _you_ were the one with the plan!"

Harry and I were both standing on the roof of the warehouse, peering down into a ventilation window that was missing all of its panes. From the light of a flickering street lamp, I could see a maze of catwalks, all piled with plywood containers and crates. Dust particles drifted lazily through the air.

"I had it all planned out up to a point..."

I groaned. "Great. You're supposed to get something for Black Widow, right? You're not going to get it for her, which means she's going to figure everything out."

I could practically see Harry's lopsided grin under the mask. "Okay, I was never really good at long-term planning."

I sighed. This was getting better and better. I had this sudden desire to climb back through my window, crawl under my covers, and bury myself in _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ or something. I scuffed my heel against the tin roof. Had Mom found the note? What would she be thinking?

"Here," Harry handed me something. "You know, just in case something goes wrong. You need to throw it hard for it to detonate on impact."

"A grenade?" I held it up. It was about the size of a softball, made out of metal, and bright orange. "Wait a minute. Hobgoblin terrorized the populace with exploding pumpkins?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't invent them. You think you can lob it?"

"I was a softball pitcher for three years in middle school. I think I can handle it," I said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

"Okay, this is it, then."

We dropped down through the hole, landing on the web of grating catwalks. The warehouse was dim and filthy. A spider scurried over an overturned crate.

"I'd better stay up here."

"All right." Harry cracked his knuckles. "Here goes." He kicked the glider into the air and dropped straight down, landing silently on the bare floor.

I goose-stepped over the junk, stubbing my toes painfully, when-

"It's about time you got here," Harry snapped in a harsh rasp. It was a pretty fair imitation of Hobgoblin's usual growl.

Black Widow dropped from the ceiling suddenly, two of her arms clasping lines of web. I swallowed nervously, holding my breath and trying to blend in with the background. The patterns of my costume were like a sort of camoflauge in the grated pattern of light and shadow from the catwalks.

Black Widow tossed her head dismissively. "I see that you've recovered. What did Spider-Girl inject you with?"

Harry snorted. I could see his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. "How should I know? Ineffective, whatever it was. To the point, what is it you want me to aquire?"

Black Widow smirked. "No time for small talk? As for Spider-Girl, I think your revenge is complete. If I'm not mistaken, she's wandering the streets, powerless and without even memories of who she is."

Huh? Why wouldn't I remember who I was?

I don't know why, but I had a feeling that something wasn't right here. It wasn't like my spider-sense. It was a deeper feeling of unease. What was going on here?

Something scuttled loudly in the shadows behind me. I saw Harry spin around below.

"What was that?"

"A mere safety precaution," Black Widow said. "I don't want to take the risk of being overheard. A few of my little toys are searching the walks above. They'll sense movement. Don't mind them. Now..."

_Little toys_...? I slid my eyes to the left and got a terrible shock as something scuttled across the grated walkway again, stepping into a spot of pale light.

The thing that crouched less that five feet away from me was about four feet tall, standing on eight steel legs, segmented and pointed like pickaxes. On top of the legs sat an oval body, with a wide black band stretching across its face, like a giant sensor. Below that were a set of foot-long, serrated mandibles. The light glittered off the razored edges. A robot!

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt sweat bead on my forehead. If I moved, this thing would spot me instantly. Without my powers, I wouldn't stand a chance against that thing. I was more helpless now than I had ever been, in my entire life.

A burst of metallic clicking came from the shadows on my other side. I gripped the bars of the grating, trying desperately to control my rising panic. There were two of them. Two of these spider robots advancing from both ends of the catwalk. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood, trembling in terror. Helpless.

"Tomorrow night you will enter Quest Aerospace by any means possible. You will go to storage on level B-3, where I first contacted you. Between seven and nine o' clock, a man by the name of Dr. Robert Hiller will be working. He is tall, African-American, short hair, wearing glasses. You will bring him to-"

"Stop. You want me to kidnap him? Is he the 'item' you wanted to procure?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Dr. Robert Hiller. You will render him unconcious and immediately transport him to coordinates forty one point two north, seventy-five point five west."

"That's halfway to Nantucket. There's nothing out there but ocean."

To my left, the first spider robot took another jolting step forward.

"At those coordinates is a drilling platform that has been out of use for several years. You are to transport Dr. Hiller to this location, upon which your task will be complete. Are we clear?"

Doc Hiller? What did she want with Doc Hiller, I finally realized through my tension. An icy fist gripped my lungs, and I suddenly shivered violently in the freezing draft from the window.

_CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKKKKKK!  
_

A piercing, metallic screech burst from directly behind me. I saw Black Widow's head snap up, dead, blank eyes staring at my hiding place. "Lock onto intruder! Destroy!"

"Whoa!" Out of pure reflex I ducked. Something hurtled through the air over my head and clattered to the grating where I had just stood. Gigantic, razor sharp mandibles snapped open and shut. I scrambled backwards and ended up clenching a broken wooden beam in my right hand. I picked it up and swung it forward like a softball bat. The grenade! Where was the grenade?

"Spider-Girl!" Black Widow half-roared, half-shrieked. For a moment, her mouth hung open in astonishment. "How...how could you still...halt!"

Both robots froze in midstep. I saw a flicker of orange in the pile of boxes. Harry's pumpkin bomb! It must have rolled there when the first spiderbot pounced. Both robots were standing between me and the grenade.

"I...I thought you said she was taken care of!" Harry stammered, his growl faltering. "What happened to your miracle venom, eh?" I felt a tiny spot of relief. Harry hadn't blown his cover.

"That's what I'd like to know." Black Widow took a step forward on the floor below, looking up at me. "There's no use in hiding, Spider-Girl. I know you're there."

"You really have a habit of stating the obvious, don't you?" I called down. The spiderbot on the left twitched, and I tightened my grip on my makeshift bat.

"So. So the venom was counteracted. You must have found help very quickly. How did you ever manage that, Spider-Girl? You were bleeding quite badly."

"Ah, just a scratch, Tybalt." I kept glancing at the grenade sitting innocently on the grating. I had to get to it. A two-by-four would smash like a toothpick against these steel monsters. Oh, if only I had my webbing...

"But I would have taken you a substantial amount of time to aquire an antitoxin. You retained your mind, but lost something else, didn't you?"

"Hmmm...nope. Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell."

Black Widow's face split into a grin of pure wickedness. "Then I'm sure you won't mind proving your claim, will you? AK One! AK Two! Kill her!"

"_Aaaaah_!" I dove ungracefully out of the way both spiderbots bounded down the catwalk at an incredible speed. I felt the breeze as the first blew past me, jaws snapping an inch from my arm. I stretched out my hand and snatched the grenade, icy cold. The spiderbots skittered out of sight in the maze of bins and crates. I crouched down, gasping.

"How long do you think you can play hide-and-seek, Spider-Girl?" Black Widow chuckled, out of sight. "You've gone from a minor challenge to an irritating nusiance."

"I was a minor challenge? I'm flattered," I called. I heard the clinking of pointed legs on the grating. Both spiderbots were working together, scanning the sea of crates in unison. I gripped the grenade and my piece of wood. If I stood up and threw it, it would bounce and wait before exploding. There was no way I could lob it hard enough for it to explode on impact, the way Harry had told me. Unless...

"There getting closer, Spider-Girl. Your ears aren't what they used to be, are they? Look, they're ten feet away from you. Can you hear their jaws clicking? It'll just be another few minutes. I hope the police won't be too traumatized when they find what's left of you."

I was getting thoroughly sick of that kind of encouragement. "Don't worry about the police. Think positive!"

Gathering all of my remaining courage in one swoop, I sprang up out of my hiding place and whirled around. The two spiderbots were crouching just behind the waist-high pile of boxes. I tossed the grenade itto the air, choked up on the beam, and batted it as hard as I could.

The grenade exploded in a flash of fire and noise, hurling boxes in every direction and knocking me back against the railing. Coughing, I saw only a few twisted fragments of lens and a single joointed leg, still twitching.

"And just where did you find something like that, Spider-Girl? A grenade, wasn't it?" Black Widow's voice was dangerously soft. I stumbled around to look at her still seeing spots. Black Widow was turning ever so slightly to face Harry.

"In fact, Spider-Girl, without your powers, how did you get here in the first place? To stretch the point, how did you even know where to go?"

_Creeeeaaaaak_.

The catwalk shuddered under my feet. I grabbed the railing.

_Creeeeaaaaak_.

From the blasted pile of spiderbot pieces, a jagged crack in the grating appeared.

"Oh...wonderful..."

The damaged grating began to split under the weight of the crates. The catwalk tilted wildly. Then, with a deep groan, the catwalk disappeared from under me.

"_Nooooooo_!"

Before I could think, two arms clamped around me, snatching me out of the air.

"What?" I gasped and twisted around. The face of Hobgoblin stared back at me. Harry had caught me! I looked down, seeing a twenty foot drop below and Black Widow, her face twisted into a horrible mask of fury and hatred.

"So, it's you, Harry Osborn. No effects from that injection, eh?" Black Widow's voice trembled with rage. "Of course, you had to save your little girlfriend."

Black Widow switched her gaze to me. "You have no idea how much of an annoyance you are becoming, Spider-Girl. I've had enough of you. I haven't given you nearly what you deserve. All I've done is taken your father. But your suffering hasn't really begun. Wait and see what's in store for you, Mayday Parker!"

"You...!" I felt a surge of terrifying hatred well up inside me. My nails pit into my palms as I stared at the monster below. The air seemed to reverberate around us, vibrating with the force of my rage.

"Have a nice evening, Spider-Girl," Black Widow sneered. Then, as a final jive, she raised two of her arms, webslung, and sprang up to the ceiling and out of sight.

I picked up a small wooden crate and hurled it into the darkness. I heard it smash against the wall.

"Mayday, what are you doing? Will you-"

I rounded on Harry. "Did you hear her? Did you hear what she said? Do you have any idea of what she's done to my family? She stole my father! Do you know what that's like? _Do you_?" I shouted.

"Yes I do!" Harry shouted back, wrenching his helmet off. "I know what that's like, Mayday!"

I sat down on a crate, my head in my hands, a rush of sadness and anger whirling inside me like a tornado. No. I had to stay in control. But all of those years of bottled-up sadness and worry had turned into a simmering volcano, just waiting to explode. "We...we have to warn Doc," I stammered finally.

Harry nodded. "She'll go after him herself now. What's going on at that rig in the ocean?"

"Who knows," I said dully. I got to my feet, still staring at the floor. "It's almost midnight. Doc won't be at Quest until tomorrow."

"Yeah," Harry pulled his helmet back on. "Come on, I'll take you home."


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Out of Control

Chapter Twenty-One

The clock read 1:43 when I climbed back into my window and pulled off my mask. I was shivering from the cold and the tension. I just wanted to fall facedown on my bed and never move again.

What an idiot I was. I could remember a time, barely four months ago, when I had thought that this job consisted of swinging around in a costume and tossing muggers into police vans. I had been so stupid. I had never stopped to think that something might go wrong.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, drained, when it hit me. I had left the lights on in my room when I left with Harry. But now my room was dark.

_Click_.

"Owww," I groaned, covering my eyes against the lights.

"Where have you been?"

Mom was standing in the doorway, her hand on the light switch. She hadn't even changed out of her work clothes. Her face was carefully expressionless.

I stood there, in plain sight, costume on and a crumpled mask in my hand. Avoiding her eyes, I went over to my closet and pulled my robe on over my costume.

It was freezing in there, anyway.

"Where have you been, Mayday?" Mom asked. Her voice rose slightly.

"Mom, I was...out."

"Out," Mom repeated. "You were out. In your costume."

What could I say to that? "Yes, I was."

Mom's eyes were glistening. "Are you trying to kill yourself, Mayday?" Still that steady, level voice.

The wind hammered against the window.

"Mom, I had to go out. It's..."

"You don't have your powers. You have no idea how happy I was when I heard that. You don't know what it's like to see your own daughter head off at night the way you do! You don't know what it's like to sit in fear that she'll never come home again! And here you are, wandering around out there! Alone! Defenseless!"

"I wasn't alone, Mom!" I shouted, them clamped my mouth shut when I realized what I had just said.

"What do you mean, you weren't alone?"

I wanted to kick myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now I had just dragged Harry into this. I had just blown Harry's secret! How was I supposed to get out of this?

I could lie. I could say...what could I say? There was no other explanation for this. I would have to face this, stop being a coward, and own up.

And I was not going to lie to my mother again.

I opened my mouth, and said, "I was with Harry."

Mom's eyes went wide. Wait, was she thinking...?

"No, Mom, that's not what I meant! I mean, he helped me get to the city, that's all."

"How? Harry can't drive." Mom's voice was heavier than before. Heavy with anger, and sadness. She thought I was lying again.

I sighed. "No, Mom. On his glider."

"On his gl-" Mom took a step backwards, gripping the doorframe so hard her knuckles turned white. In a hoarse whisper, she said, "Harry's..._glider_?"

"Yes, Mom. His glider," I said wearily, bracing myself against the coming hurricane.

"Harry Osborn is…is Hobgoblin?"

I nodded.

Mom leaned back against the doorframe, her face in her hand. "Oh, my God. How...how _could_ he..."

There was a silence. Then, I said. "He isn't anymore. He's-"

"_Isn't anymore_!" Mom exploded. "Harry Osborn! How could he 'not be anymore'? How could you..."

Mom stared at me in disbelief, as if it were impossible to understand how I could have been so dense.

"It was an accident," I said hurriedly. "It's not like you think. There was this chemical, and it gave him some kind of split personality. But he's cured now. I went and asked Doc for the antidote. So he's better. Yeah." I stopped, painfully aware that I was babbling.

Mom stared at me, uncomprehending. I rushed on, "So since I've lost my powers he said that he was going to meet Black Widow. I mean, he was only going to pretend to be Hobgoblin..."

Mom was shaking her head slowly, eyes wide, staring at me as if I was completely crazy. "How could you do something like this...this...all of this! And Harry...damn it, Mayday! How could you be so naive? How could you trust him? Don't you know what that boy _is_?"

"I know what he is!" I yelled back. "He's Harry! He's a human being!"

Mom straightened up, eyes blazing. "And how do you know that?" She said, "You just told me some crazy story about him being cured, whatever that means. But I know one thing. That...that kid..." Mom spat the last word venemously. "Is the son of the Green Goblin. You've seen him yourself! You've fought him yourself! He's a monster!"

"He is not!" I shouted. "He's not Hobgoblin anymore, Mom! He's Harry Osborn! Harry! The same guy you've known since the second grade!"

"I thought I did! I thought that my daughter's best friend was one of the nicest kids I'd met! _Until he demolished Times Square_!"

What could I say to make her understand? Mom was so angry at me that she wasn't listening to anything I said! "That was not Harry! That was Hobgoblin!"

"I don't care who he says he is now! How could you trust him? How could you trust him with your life? Why would you do this?"

Mom was furious. "What are you trying to do, Mayday? Do you want to get killed, too? What do think it'll do to your brother when you don't come home? What about your grandmother? What about me? Why don't you see that you're destroying your family? Why are you doing this?"

"_Because Dad is alive!"_ I shrieked.

"What's going on?"

Benny stood at the door in his Batman pajamas, sleepy-eyed and touseled. He stared first at Mom, then at me, bemused. Neither of us answered.

"Why're you yelling?" Benny asked again, now wide awake.

Mom and I stared at each other. "We're just having an argument, Benny. Come on, I'll tuck you in."

I didn't sleep that night. I changed out of my costume and lay in the dark until my alarm rang at six. It had started to snow again. Wet, soggy slush littered the streets and sidewalks.

I don't think Mom slept either, but she never came back up to ask me for an explanation. I didn't feel like giving one. I was just so tired, more exhausted than I had ever felt before.

The alarm clock went off.

School. Final exams.

"Ohhhh, crud," I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. This whole situation just seemed so ridiculous that I wanted to burst out laughing. Mom no longer trusted me, Doc was in danger, Black Widow was planning something so horrible it was inconceivable, and I had just blurted out the one thing that would sadden Mom even more.

And what was I complaining about? My chemistry final!

I got ready for school in some sort of sleepless daze. For the first time in months, I didn't wear my costume underneath. What waw the point. If something happened, I could no more save lives than I could stop an avalanche.

Breakfast was silent that morning. We all ate mechanically. Benny kept glancing uneasily between Mom and me, but he didn't say anything.

After he had left on the bus, and I was shouldering my backpack, Mom said, "I don't want you to have anything to do with Osborn again."

"His name is Harry," I said coldly.

Mom chose not to answer that. "He's not visiting here ever again. I don't want you talking to him. I don't want you anywhere near him."

I closed the door behind me and stepped out into the cold.

I got to school almost thirty minutes early. Our schedule had been changed for finals week, and I had no idea where to start looking for Harry. Instead, I went inside and headed listlessly up to my empty chemistry class. I dropped my bag, sat down, and put my head down.

"Mayday? Are you all right?"

I looked up. Ms. Garcia was frowning at me worriedly at me from the door.

"Yeah...I mean, yes, I'm fine. Sorry."

"No, don't worry about it. So...ready for your final?" Ms. Garcia set her copies on her desk and sat down.

"Not really," I said truthfully, with a sinking feeling.

"Oh."

I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my notes. I was staring at a paragraph on Avigadro's number when Ms. Garcia said, "Mayday, are you really all right?"

"Yes, thank you. Why?"

"Well, you seem so tired lately. Is something bothering you?"

Other than Black Widow planning to kidnap Doc? "I haven't been getting along well with anyone lately," I said. Then, like a dam bursting, I blurted out, "It seems like everything I do I find some way to screw up. It's just...it's just..."

"Nothing is going right? And it just seems to be snowballing out of control?"

I blinked. How had she known?

"Believe me, I know the feeling," Ms. Garcia said, a little sadly. The ghost of a smile flickered over her face. "I can only offer one piece of advice, Mayday. 'This too shall pass'. If this is a bad time in your life, just remember that nothing lasts forever. Things'll always improve, even if they get worse before they get better."

I felt oddly comforted.

I was trudging down the hall during passing period, feeling like my brain was a cold lump of spaghetti. I had slogged through the chemistry final almost blindly, and I didn't even want to think about what kind of grade I had made.

"Mayday! Mayday!"

Suddenly Harry popped out of the crowd next to me, gasping for air and clutching his side. "I ran...had to..."

"What happened? Harry? Sit down!"

I steered Harry over to a bench. He collapsed, wheezing. I sat down next to him. "Harry, what happened? Where were you? You missed your final!"

Harry waved it away weakly. "I can...make it up. I was...at Quest...to warn...Doc. I ran...all the way...back."

I pulled out my water bottle and handed it to him. "You ran all the way from Quest? That's almost to the seaport!"

"Yeah...so...I had to tell Doc. See...I flew to Quest last night. He said he was working on the permanent antidote," Harry said.

"What do you mean, 'permanent' antidote?"

Harry swallowed more water. "The first one was temporary."

"How temporary?"

Harry paused. "About a week and a half."

"_A week and a half_! I gave it to you ten days ago!"

"It means," Harry said slowly, like a condemned prisoner, "that I've got about a day left before Hobgoblin comes back."

I sat still, horrified.

"And, I was walking to school today, and I saw all of these police cars. So, I followed. And they went to Quest. I heard them talking...'bout Black Widow."

Harry finally set the empty bottle of water down and sat up straight. "She was there this morning. Half of the building's underground is destroyed. And Doc Hiller is gone."

I said, "Then whatever Black Widow's plan is...it's already started."


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: The Rig

Chapter Twenty-Two

I went up to my room that night and paced, back and forth, flattening the carpet in a small track leading from my bed to my desk. The temperature outside had risen, and dark clouds were roiling above. It looked like there might even be a thunderstorm.

I had to do something. If I stayed in her one more minute I was sure I was going to explode with tension. I looked at the clock. 11:29. Harry was going to leave for the rig soon, in armor and on his glider. To try and rescue Doc from Black Widow.

I clenched my hands together and sat down. The argument that had followed Harry's news had not been pretty. In fact, I couldn't remember a single fight having ever been worse than that one. We had both stomped away, furious. The day had gone downhill from there.

Mom had picked me up in the car after school. She had left work early just to make sure I went straight home. Neither of us had said a word.

My whole life was falling apart in front of me. My own mother didn't trust me, my family was starting to break, Harry had a little over a day until Hobgoblin resurfaced, and Black Widow had kidnapped Doc.

It was December twenty-third.

Oh, yeah. God bless us, everyone.

Harry had told me that his glider was in his basement. Right. How could that be true? Harry's penthouse was full of people all the time. They even had a butler. There was no way he could have possibly hidden the glider there all this time without being discovered.

I sat up.

The basement of his house?

In a flash of insight, I remembered. Hobgoblin had first shown himself on Halloween, in that alley a few blocks from my house. But why had he been in Queens, miles from his house in Manhattan? He hadn't known who I was at the time. What reason would he have had for being in Queens?

I stood up and began pacing again. There wasn't anything that I knew of in Queens that he could have been after. In fact, he had probably seen me chasing off those thugs and flown down. But he must have been flying over Queens.

Could it be because his glider was hidden in Queens?

"That's it!" I gasped. Of course! Harry said his glider was hidden in the basement of his house. But had he said which one?

Could he have been talking about his _old_ house?

I dashed across my room and wrenched my blinds open. There it was, just next door, Harry's old, small house, where he and his aunt had lived for seven years. I squinted at the darkened back yard. Two thick, gray basement doors slanted slightly into a concrete setting beside the back door.

A wild, half-baked idea was beginning to form in my head. I knew where Harry's glider was hidden. Could I, maybe...?

I switched off my desk lamp, throwing my room into darkness. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and kicked off my shoes. The Spider-Girl costume was underneath.

"Mayday, I think you've really lost it this time," I muttered. What was I thinking? I wasn't Spider-Girl anymore. Harry had made more sense than I had today. I was just a normal girl. A kid. How could I do anything against Black Widow? Harry might have armor and weapons, but he didn't have any experience. And the treatment was wearing off fast.

What would Dad have done?

I took a deep breath and picked up my mask. I made my way to the door and creaked it open slightly. Silence. I stepped tentatively into the hall, shutting the door behind me. Mom's room was across the hall. I could see her asleep, with her back to me.

"I'll come back," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please don't worry about me. I have to go."

Swallowing hard, I closed her door softly.

"Mayday? What the heck are you do-"

Benny! He stood there, in a past of light, squinting at me blearily. Then his eyes flew open and his jaw dropped. I was standing there in my costume, in plain view, holding my mask!

Benny's goldfish expression suddenly broke into a wide grin. "Yes! I knew it! I knew it! I—_mmmpph_!"

I clapped my hand over his mouth. "Benny! Look, listen to me! Shhhh! Be quiet!"

Benny nodded, and I pulled my hand away. He grinned at me, eyes shining. "Oh man, this is so cool! I knew you were acting weird, you know, disappearing and coming home all beat up and stuff! It's you! You're Spider- Girl!"

"Shhh!" I hissed. "Benny, I'm sorry, I'll explain it to you later. I've got to go, right now. I've got to-"

"Let me go too! Please! Please! I wanna see what happens? Are you going to go beat up Hobgoblin or somebody? I know karate! I can help! Can you show me how you do that web thing?"

I smiled. "I bet you could, but this is way too dangerous, Benny. I've got to go! I just haven't really figured out how...Benny, can I use your window?" There was a tree just outside it that I could use...

Benny crossed his arms. "I want to go too."

"Benny!" I groaned. "Don't take this the wrong way-"

"I am _so_ old enough!" Benny whispered so loudly that I flinched. "I'm small! I can run around and provide distraction!"

"Benny, please," I pleaded. Benny had a penchant for incredible stubborness, and it was coming out now. "Benny, Black Widow has kidnapped someone. I don't know why, but it's very dangerous for him right now. If something goes wrong, he might get killed. Do you understand me? I have to do this on my own."

Benny looked so crushed that I immediately felt guilty. Silently he nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. "You can use my window. Go ahead."

I knelt down and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Benny. I owe you one."

I tiptoed down the hall to Benny's room and made my way around the piles of comic books and action figures. A thick pecan tree grew just outside Benny's window, within easy reach. As I slid it open, Benny said, "It'll work out. I mean, wow, you're Spider-Girl, Mayday! And that web thing is really cool. You'll kick Black Widow's butt."

I grinned lopsidedly back at him trying to hide my own anxiety. He didn't know. He thought that I still had my powers. "Sure I will, Benny. See you later."

I tumbled down the tree at an alarming rate, landing none too gracefully at the bottom. Rubbing my elbow, I shivered in the cold and pulled myself over the chain link fence into Harry's back yard. All of the neighboring houses were dark.

It was cold and damp. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I kicked through the overgrown grass to the basement doors. Unlocked, and pitch black.

The steps were slippery under my feet, but I remembered to reach up and pull the chain for the lights.

In the middle of a dusty basement, piled with cardboard boxes and old rusty bicycles, was the Hobgoblin glider. Green and orange, built like a gigantic, swept-back bat, gleaming dully in the light.

I had to be out of my mind. Was I seriously considering getting to that rig...on _that_?

I edged closer. The glider only lay there, still. I hesitated, then raised one foot and stepped aboard.

_Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm_! _Shwick_! _Shwick_!

"Yah!"

The glider had suddenlly growled to life, and twin clamps had snapped over my feet, pinning them to the surface of the glider. I started breathing again. Now, how was I supposed to get this thing to get off the ground?

The glider rose upwards.

I threw out my arms for balance. What was that? I hadn't told it to do anything, I hadn't even moved! Now how did I get it to go down?

The glider dropped a foot.

I blinked. If I wanted it to move left...

The glider slid smoothly to the left.

My face cracked into a huge grin, in part from stress, and partially from sheer amazement. This glider was controlled mentally! All you had to do was envision it moving, and-

The glider sped upwards downwards, left, right, and even twirled in midair as I stood aboard. I could do it!

"All right, then here it goes," I mumured, pulling the mask down over my head. This was it. I tensed, about to envision gliding slowly out through the open doors, when a shadow blocked my way.

Harry stood silhouetted in the door, gaping at me. "Mayday! What the..._what are you doing_?"

"I'm just borrowing it!"

"Mayday! Mayday! Hey, no...!"

I swooped over his head and into the sky, fumbling a bit but finally pointing northeast, towards the ocean.

"Mayday! No!" Harry shouted, sprinting outside. Taking one final look back, I shot off over Queens.

The ocean sped below me, churning furiously. The winter wind was salty and frigid. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, but I could only concentrate on keeping my course due northeast. Worries and what-ifs kept racing haphazardly through my head. What if I missed the rig? What if they saw me? What would happen? What if-

_Stop_ _it_! I ordered myself. I had to pay attention to where I was going, not worry about what would happen if I messed this up too. After all, I was just a girl on a glider. No powers, no nothing.

Lighting lit up the sky directly over my head. I yelped and dropped about twenty feet, trembling. Not only did I have to think about Black Widow, now I had to worry about getting hit by lightning!

A high wave splashed against the bottom of the glider. The storm was getting closer every minute, and there was still no sign of the drilling rig...

Wait!

I halted the glider and hovered, peering unsteadily into the night. There was something out there in the ocean, something huge...

I began to glide slowly forward, my apprehension rising. It was a building, made of steel and concrete, standing in the ocean on giant concrete pillars. The whole look of the place reminded me of a power plant. But no light shone from the rig.

Well, I was here, but now what?

_BLAM_! _BLAM_! _BLAM_!

Something richocheted off the left wing of the glider, rocking it wildly. I threw out my arms to balance. What was that?

_BLAM_! _BLAM_! _BLAM_ _BLAM_ _BLAM_ _BLAM_!

Someone was shooting at me!

I jerked out of the way, whirling the glider around as another rapid- fire burst rattled the air around me, coming from the rig. In another flash of lightning, I saw what caused it. Two swiveling guns, almost like something from an old World War Two battleship, were trained directly on me. I dropped straight down to the waves as a hail of bullets blew past over my head.

"Okay, then let's see if who's faster!" I yelled. I crouched down and shouted mentally, _Go_!

The glider blasted forwards, dodging in and out between the waves almost as if it had a mind of tis own. Bullets splashed the water in a trail just behind me, their sound drowned out by the approaching thunder.

I pulled up sharply just in front of a pillar and held my breath. The gunshots stopped abruptly, and I looked up. It had worked! The guns must have tracked movement, but if I was right next to something else, they couldn't distinguish me from the building!

Very slowly, I let the glider rise, keeping an arm's length from the concrete support pillar. The stone rushed past me, and I stopped just when I saw the corrugated steel of some kind of docking platform. I peered over the edge. No one.

I swallowed nervously. This whole place had to be a maze of halls and walkways. Who knew where Black Widow was hiding in here?

"Hey, Reynolds!"

I dropped back down below the platform just as a man stepped onto the platform from a door I hadn't noticed, pushing an empty trolley. But he was dressed in some kind of suit, almost like the kind that scientists wore, when they were working with deadly chemicals or diseases. It looked something like a space suit made out of cloth, with a mirrored face guard. I couldn't make out any of his features.

"Reynolds!" the man shouted over the wind, turning back towards the door. "Get out here and help me!"

Another man, dressed in the same kind of biohazard suit rushed out and helped the first man tie the trolley to the grated steel floor of the platform. Then they hurried back inside.

I waited a moment, then steered the glider upwards to a landing on the deserted platform. Freezing raindrops began to fall. Thinking quickly, I clambered off the glider and dragged to over the the trolley, sliding it underneath it and out of the rain. If I was lucky, no one else would come outside in this weather and find it.

Peering around cautiously, I flattened myself against the outer wall and made my way towards the door. It was maybe fifteen feet high and at least twice as wide, made for maybe heavy machinery. The entire rig felt powered. I could hear the throbbing of some kind of machinery from below. I grabbed the edge of the door and looked in.

I saw a huge, wide hallway, its floor covered with cables and tubing. The thrumming of the machines was even louder in here. The entire hallway was shadowed, barely lit. I could see two figures turn a corner and disappear from view, the same two workers I had just seen. What were these people doing here?

I edged inside, creeping forward, ready to flatten against the wall at any sign of movement. I missed my spider sense more than ever.

My foot slid into a pool of light from a half-open door. I froze, listening, but I didn'thear anything. I looked inside, blinking owlishly under my mask. This room was much smaller in proportion to the hallway, brightly lit, and lined with what looked like clothing lockers. The bright colors of my costume made me feel obvious, garish. How could I go wandering around this place in my costume? There was nowhere for me to hide!

Unless...

I went to the nearest locker and unlatched it. The door swung open, revealing a complete biohazard suit, made for a man or a very tall woman. A metal nameplate was pinned to it, reading NAISH. I opened the next locker. REILLY. FRIEDMANN. SANDROUNI. MASON.

I stopped. MASON was the smallest suit I had seen yet, made for someone about my heighth.

Could I...?

"I'm just 'borrowing' everything tonight," I muttered. Making my decision, I pulled the suit off the hook and unzipped it, stepping into the boots and pulling it on over my costume. If I was lucky, no one would be able to see my mask through the face plate. I zipped up the front, flipped the helmet over my head, and froze.

Underneath the suit was a gun.

"Hey, Mason. Back early?"

I whirled around. "Huh? Oh...yes," I blurted out, pitching my voice a tone lower. A man was standing behind me, dressed in a biohazard suit and flipping through a laminated clipboard. I could barely make out his features through the mirror-like face shield. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder irritably.

"Good. You're wanted. The package has been delivered, and you're on guard duty. D-Six. He's about to be questioned."

"Guard duty. D-Six. Right," I repeated stupidly. Package? Was he talking about Doc?

The man paged through his clipboard again, then raised his head. "What the hell are you waiting for, Mason? Get your weapon! Two is about to debrief him! Get down there!"

I nodded quickly, snatched the gun and hurried out of the room and into the hall. It was nearly empty now. The throb of the machinery was almost deafening, and the gun felt like a dead wight in my hands. I stared at it, and past it at the suit I had snatched. A wave of disgust swept through me, but I kept my grip and forced myself to walk forward at a steady pace. If I was ever going to get Doc out of here, I was going to have to play along.

As I passed a door marked D-4, I started to shiver. This drilling platform was massive, with at least a hundred people working on it. What did this have to do with Black Widow? Why had she brought Doc to this place? Another chill passed through me. Such a huge place, and so many people.

What was she planning?

My footsteps echoed as I reached D-6. The grille doors were folded to the side of the threshhold. Inside there was blackness.

"Mason?"

I jumped. The voice came from inside the darkness. Making a decision, I said nasally, "Yes?"

"Don't stand there gaping, come in."

I stepped inside tentatively, tightening my grip on the cold metal to steady my hands. I blinked rapidly, but I could see nothing.

"It's about time," the voice snapped. It was a woman's voice, and strangely familiar. It wasn't Black Widow, the voice wasn't nearly high enough. But I was sure I had heard it before, somewhere...

"Hiller is inside. He is tense, very agitated. I will be questioning him. You will stand directly behind his chair. When you enter, I want your weapon in plain sight. He may make an attempt to escape. Do not harm him under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am." I tried my best to sound like a Nantucketer.

"Good," the voice muttered. I heard footsteps against the floor, and the sound of another grille sliding back. "Follow me."

I followed, feeling sweat starting to bead on my forehead. Doc was in the other room. What did this woman want with him?

A light clicked on suddenly and I jumped out of pure tension. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that the woman was standing with her back to me, her hand gripping the chain of a single light bulb dangling from the sloping ceiling. I could only see her back, and that she had a long black braid and was wearing a lab coat.

Doc was sitting in the center of the room, in a simple wooden chair. He was leaning over, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His glasses were gone, and he looked more disheveled than I had ever seen him.

"Dr. Robert Hiller?"

The woman stepped aside, and jerked her head at me without turning around. Slowly, I stepped into view. Doc looked up quickly, his eyes flickering between the woman's face and mine. He couldn't have seen either of us clearly without his glasses, but the look of rage that he shot at the woman made me shiver. I forced myself to walk around behind Doc and turn around to face his back.

"What do you want?" Doc growled.

"Your help, that's all," the woman said pleasantly. She was still standing in the shadows, only an indistinct silhouette.

Doc snorted. "Oh, yeah. Aggravated kidnapping really wins a man's support."

The woman continued, in that smooth tone, "Eight years ago you were working at the OsCorp bioengineering labs, weren't you?"

Doc didn't respond.

"You were, Dr. Hiller. You're just too ashamed to admit it."

"Do you have a point?" Doc snapped.

"I do," the woman said, a little less pleasantly. "What you were developing was a chemical agent that was to be sold to the United States military."

Doc didn't make a sound as the woman continued. "Let's run through the statistics, shall we? A mutagenic steroid designed to increase strength, endurance, and sensory capacities. There are some unfortunate side effects...side effects that created our mutual aquaintance Hobgoblin."

Doc spoke my thought aloud. "Mutual?"

"You see, what I need is a little assitance from you, Doctor. All of the data concerning this formula has mysteriously vanished from all of Quest Aerospace's files. So has the concrete product."

Doc said nothing.

The woman crossed her arms. "I'll make this quick, Dr. Hiller. You are the only person alive capable of reproducing the chemical formula for this performance enhancer of yours. You will provide the empirical formula, and the bugs will be worked out separately."

"What twisted, deranged fool are you working for?" Doc said.

"What?"

Doc lifted his head. "You have to have a superior. Who are you working for? It can't be that spider monster. No, I think that she's only in charge of the dirty work."

The woman's became very cold. "Spider monster, did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Would you have any objection to my temporarily diverging from the topic at hand to tell you a little story, Doctor?"

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman took a step forward into the light, and I saw her features clearly for the first time. My brain ground to a halt.

It was Ms. Garcia.

Ms. Garcia folded her hands behind her back, staring directly at Doc, her face inhumanly cold. Casually, as if asking the time of day, she said, "Have you ever studied Hinduism, Dr. Hiller?"

"No."

"I have. Facinating subject. However, there is one particular concept I'd like to discuss in particular. It's called karma. People who practice Hinduism believe that what you do in life will eventually affect you. Good will have good. He who does evil shall reap evil." She began to walk to the left of us, to the opposite railing.

"There is no such thing as karma, did you know that? Everything in the universe is governed by chance. Luck. Whatever you want to call it. I know this. I think I'll tell you how I do."

The woman paused, gripping the railing. "Twenty years ago I was a student at Columbia, in New York City. I was studying medicine. I had stars in my eyes, plans for a great future." Self-mocking bitterness crept into her voice. "Oh, yes, I was going to travel the world. I was going to find cures for horrible diseases. I was going to help save lives in countries where there was no help for the sick and the dying. There was so much I planned to do. I was going to make a difference in this world, for the better."

She turned around to face Doc. He ignored her, starting doggedly ahead.

"The pet project of the department at the time was a collection of fifteen genetically altered spiders. Their natural abilities had been greatly enhanced. We were studying them for their venom, actually, to fabricate an antitoxin."

I could feel that once-familiar rush of adrenaline trickling through my veins. All I felt was dread.

"Then, when I was handling the spiders, I was bitten. Through plastic gloves." Ms. Garcia raised the palm of her right hand and studied it in the light. "You can still see the scar."

She stepped away from the railing, back towards us, coming to a stop three feet in front of Doc, staring him in the face with frightening intensity. "I became very, very sick. I went home. I fell asleep. And when I woke up..."

My teeth clamped down on my tongue and I tasted blood in my mouth just as two sets of arms exploded from Ms. Garcia's sides, tearing her lab coat to shreds. Doc gasped and shoved the chair backwards. My eyes were wide, my breath was ragged.

Ms. Garcia stood up straight, taller than before, somehow elongating before my eyes. Black scales spread up from her collar and down her arms, covering her skin in a hard, segemented exoskeleton. She raised six spindly arms just as gigantic, velociraptor claws unsheathed from her fingertips. Her eyes enlarged suddenly with a sickening pop, pupils expanding until her eyes were entirely black. Two hollow, massive fangs curved down out of her mouth.

In a lightning movement, Black Widow clamped a fist around Doc's throat and heaved him over her head, lifting him three feet off the floor.

"I woke up like _this_!"

I gripped the gun so hard I thought my fingers would break. Sweat streamed down my face in rivers. Black Widow was standing five feet away from me, snarling. She let go of Doc, dropping him back into his chair. "Another Gregor Samsa, aren't I?"

"You," Doc wheezed. "It was you. All along."

Black Widow ignored his words. "I stayed locked in my dorm room. I didn't eat or sleep. All I did was scream and cry and rage about what had happened to me. I was twenty-five years old, just starting medical school, my whole life ahead of me. What had I done to deserve this?"

I listened, mesmerized with horror. Her voice steadied. "It can be controlled. I learned that later. I can choose to look human, the way I used to be. But it takes terrible concentration. This...this creature is my true form now.

"Can you even imagine what it's like to live this way, Dr. Hiller?" Black Widow hissed, leaning forward. "I tried to make the best of it, after a few months. Heh. In fact, my dreams changed. I was half-spider now, but maybe I could still do some good in this world. I had vague, wild ideas of maybe being a sort of rescuer. I could climb into burning buildings and such." She laughed, "I was going to be a superhero.

"And then, one day, I ended up watching the news. And do you know what I saw? A man in a costume, fighting crime in the city. He could climb walls, and shoot web lines from the inside of his wrists. He was very strong. And he had the precognition.

"I knew then. I hadn't been the only one bitten. This man had gained his abilities from the same genetically altered group of spiders.

"I changed to my true form and followed him one night. He was someone like me. I saw him enter a balcony of an apartment in Manhattan, where he removed his mask."

Her voice rose, trembling. "I recognized him. I had seen him months before. He was a high school student who had visited Columbia. And he looked like a normal human being.

"I went home. I had decided that he must have found a way to keep a human appearance while maintainging his spider-powers. But it was then that I realized.

"He had been bitten by one of the spiders. In the spider's venom was its transfer RNA. It injected itself into his genome and gave him the spider-abilities, but left him a normal human appearance. Do you see, Doctor? _Do you understand_?

"It was _chance_ that did this to me. It was pure, random chance that turned Parker into Spider-Man and me into this monstrosity. Only luck saved him from becoming a freak. Both of us had an equal chance of becoming monsters, but he was spared. By sheer luck of the draw."

Black Widow took a deep breath. "That is why karma isn't real, Doctor. No one gets what they really deserve. What had I ever done to deserve this?"

Doc found his voice. "He disappeared years ago. And you had something to do with that, didn't you?"

I tensed.

Black Widow smiled, as warmly as a crocodile. "I didn't give in to my jealousy, Dr. Hiller. I tried to forget what I had seen. I tried to live as normally as I could under my circumstances. I even went back to school. And that was the beginning of the end.

"You see, I fell in love.

"He was another student, a few years older than me. Double major, in both medicine and business. He was young, and ambitious, too. He had dreams of starting his own corporation. We were happy, in love, though I had never told him my secret. Then, he started to change.

"We drifted apart. He was distant, absorbed in his work. His temper changed. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I was really talking to him, the real Norman, anymore. For two years."

"_Norman_?" Doc gasped. "You...you can't mean..."

"You know exactly who I mean, Doctor. Norman Osborn."

I strangled a gasp. Black Widow's gaze flickered to me for an instant, then back to Doc.

"It went this way, Dr. Hiller. I could tolerate Spider-Man. I let him go about his business. I never bothered him. But then, he destroyed my entire world."

Black Widow leaned forward and whispered, her face contorting, "_He murdered the man I loved._"

It was all I could do to keep myself from reeling backwards in shock. It was all falling together, piece by piece, before my very eyes. Everything!

"I mourned. I was almost suicidal. I knew that Norman had become the Green Goblin, and that's why he had changed. But it didn't matter. I couldn't help him, but I could avenge him.

"I bided my time. I waited. I knew who he was, even though it had been years since I had last seen him on the balcony. He had married, bought a house in Queens. He had two children, a girl and a boy. Worked as a photographer. Went about his life like a normal human being. But I watched. I waited. And one night, when he went out..."

"You killed him!" Doc whispered. His face had a sick, grayish undertone.

Black Widow threw back her head and laughed, a sound that instilled more fear in me than any Goblin cackle. This laugh wasn't insane. It was full of a cruel, calculated, triumphant malevolence that went on and on.

"I have never killed anyone in my life, Dr. Hiller, believe it or not," Black Widow chuckled. "No, he deserved far worse than death. But I let him live. However, I wounded him." Black Widow lifted a hand. Her glaws glittered in the light, razor-sharp. "These are venemous, you know. With rather interesting properties. I was able to test those proerties again, recently. I wounded Spider-Man badly. He dragged himself away, to an alley, where he collapsed. I watched, the whole time. And when he woke up, I knew my venom had worked. My revenge was complete. Because Spider-Man was nol longer Spider-Man, nor was he Peter Parker. He had no powers, no memory, nothing."

No memory.

I had a sudden flashback to my own awakening, bandaged and aching in that hospital over a week ago. The doctor had been telling Mom about the effects of Black Widow's venom. Weakness, fatigue...and memory loss.

My mind whirled. The only reason it hadn't happened to me was because Harry had gotten me to the hospital in time. I had only lost my powers, not my memory, but Dad...

"Let this be a lesson to you, Doctor. This is what happens to those who cross me. Now it's time for us to make a little agreement. I want the formula for OsCorp's performance enhancer. You will give me the formula for the performance enhancer. Do you understand?"

Doc seemed shaken, horrified, but he mananged the courage to sneer. "Go ahead and kill me, you monster. You think I'm afraid of you? Go ahead. Do your worst!"

Black Widow smiled. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Dr. Hiller. You have no idea what my worst can be. I won't kill you, but I can make your every waking moment such hell that you'll beg for death once I'm through with you."

She straightened and looked at me. "I'm going to give the good doctor some time to consider, Mason. Watch him. I will seal the door. If he tries anything, shoot to wound."

Black Widow turned and walked away, back into the shadows. I heard the door slide shut behind her, and then the second door.

Silence.

I let out my breath in a whoosh. My face was wet, but I couldn't tell whether it was sweat or tears.

My dad...

"I think she's got her standard villainess dialogue down pretty well, but her acting is awful. What does she think we're in, a comic book?" I said.

Doc twisted around to stare up at me. His jaw dropped.

I forced a grin under my helmet. "You didn't think Harry and I were going to abandon you, did you?"

"Sp-Sp-Spider-Girl? Is that you? How...how did you...Harry!" Doc leaped up to tower over me. "His time's almost up! Where is he? They took the antidote! I was working on it when-"

"We'll get it back, don't worry. But we've got to get you out of here first." I held up the gun. "Do you know how to use that?"

Doc stared at it. "I can't use that. I'm a doctor. It would violate all of my—"

"Lives are on the line here. If you want to save them, then help me!" I shoved the gun into his hands without waiting for a reply and spun around, scanning the room. How was I supposed to get him out of here? Black Widow could be prowling anywhere around this rig! How could I just march him out of there? Sooner or later my bluff would run out, and it would be all over. And I didn't have my powers!

I clenched my teeth. I had to stop whining and forget about my powers. I didn't have them, and that was it. I couldn't waste time worrying about them, I had to get us out of here!

"Look, Doc, I came on Harry's glider. I'm going to have to-"

_Swish_! _Clang_! _Swish_! _Clang_!

"She's coming back!" Doc gasped.

"Give me the gun and sit down!" I ordered. He handed it to me without hesitation and sat back down inthe chair.

_Swish_! _Clang_! _Swish_! _Clang_! The second door slid to the side, and a man stepped into the light. He was dressed inthe same biohazard suit as the other workers, and opaque face mask. He cradled a gun in his arms.

"Mason? Your shift's over."

I think, that after all that had happened to me, since the day I got sick in gym class, I will remember those words most of all. Not the words, but the voice that spoke them. The voice that I had not heard for so long, the voice that I last remembered speaking to me, five years ago. The voice that had said, "I'll be back in a little while. See you later, Mayday."

"Mason? You okay?" the man said, sounding concerned.

"What...what are you doing here?" I choked out.

The man took a step backwards. "You're not Mason."

Doc was glancing between us, confused. The man shifted his grip on his gun, his voice hardening. "Look, you've got about ten seconds to tell me who you are and what you're doing here before I call my superiors. Talk!"

Somehow, I managed to say. "I...I'm Mayday. It's me, Daddy."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: John Doe

Chapter Twenty-Three

Five years ago I was ten years old, and still at the age of comic books and Barbie dolls. It had been cold, very cold, and the last snowfall for years covered the streets in watery slush.

I am in the living room, sitting on the rug and building a Lego spaceship from tiny pieces scattered over the floor. Benny, three years old and smiling as always, is hopping around singing along to a Chipmunks Christmas tape. The tree is small and bright. If you squint hard enough, the little lights can turn into stars.

From the other room, I hear, "Pete, wait."

I look up from my Legos.

"What?"

"Only...can you skip work for tonight?"

Mom and Dad are talking. I would go back to my toys, but for some reason I stop and listen.

"It's Christmas Eve. Can't it wait?"

"MJ," Dad says wearily. That's what he calls Mom. "MJ, I can't. You know that."

Mom's voice drops to a tense whisper. "Pete, look at yourself! You're a wreck. You haven't slept properly for almost a month."

I hear a clattering from the front hall. It sounds like Dad is picking up his cameras.

"Please, just take a break. You have a life outside all of that now. You can't be there all of the time. You don't deserve to have to do this!"

I get up and go to the door. Mom and Dad stand in front of the door, Mom seeming to be pleading, Dad shaking his head, not meeting her eyes.

"I have a feeling, that's all. Don't go out tonight. You don't have any reason to." Mom takes his arm. "He's dead, Peter. He's dead and it's over. It's all over."

"No," Dad says shortly, running his fingers back through his hair. "It's not over. I don't know if it'll ever be over."

"Pete..."

They hug. I can see Mom's face over Dad's shoulder, her eyes shut, the line of her mouth wavering. Then she opens her eyes.

"Mayday?"

"What's going on?" I ask in a small voice.

Dad lets go of Mom and turns around. "Oh, uh...I'm just going out for awhile."

He has never been good at lying.

Mom casts a weary look at me, but nods assent. Dad looks as if he wants to come and hug me too, but he says, "I'll only be gone for a little while. See you later, Mayday."

Then he is gone.

"Pete! Peter, wait!" Mom rushes to the door and pulls it open, but the sidewalk and street are completely empty. "Pete..."

The next morning, I wake up and run downstairs, expecting to see Benny already surrounded by a mountain of wrapping paper, Mom and Dad grinning and urging Benny to make funny faces for the camera.

But all I see, once I slide down the banister and run into the living room, is an unplugged tree with a pile of wrapped presents underneath.

I go into the den. Mom is sitting on the couch, her back to me, facing the back door. Benny is standing in front of her, his three-year-old face looking ready to burst into tears.

I know why.

"Where's Daddy?" I ask.

And it had been on that Christmas that I learned that life wasn't all fun and games, that we wouldn't always be together, and that now something had happened to us, and we were broken.

Thunder crashed. The storm was coming closer. Winter thunderstorms were unusual around here, but not unheard of.

"What?" the man asked, taking a step backwards. The light from the single bulb glinted off of his nametag for a second, and I saw the word DOE. I couldn't see his face through the mirrored faceplate, but I would have known that voice a hundred years from now.

"It's me, Daddy," I repeated. I had fought against tears for a long time, training myself never to cry, to stay strong. It had become a necessary skill since Dad had vanished. I had had to stay strong for Mom, and for Benny.

But tears were coming now.

My father, my own father, was standing in front of me.

And he did not know who I was.

I lost my grip on the gun, and was vaguely aware of Doc catching it. I stepped forward, ripping the biohazard helmet off my head to reveal my mask, then pulled my mask off. "I...I took after you."

I didn't worry about showing my face; I didn't care that if Doc took one step forwards he would see me. My father, my dad...

The man, Peter Parker, took another step backwards. "I...I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not married, I don't have any kids, I-"

"You do! Oh god, Dad, don't you remember? Remember Mom? And Benny? And your Aunt May? She died a few months after you disappeared, the doctors didn't know why...Daddy, please!"

I didn't care that Doc was standing right there, hearing every word, that I was risking exposing my identity. It didn't matter, anyhow; without my powers, what did I have to lose?

"Dad, you've got to remember!" My voice rose uncontrollably. "Remember Christmas Eve? You never came home! I didn't know what was going on! You just disappeared! Because you went out to be Spider-Man!"

Dad and Doc gasped at the same time.

"Spider-Man?" Dad spat. "What the...what are you talking about? I'm not Spider-Man! Are you crazy? That man was a criminal! He was insane! He was a murderer!"

"Is that what they told you? Is that what they've been telling you all these years?" I yelled. "She poisoned you! She took your memory and your powers! To get even!"

"_What are you talking about_?" Dad shouted.

"Garcia! Black Widow!"

"Dr. Garcia? You're lying," Dad said flatly. "She's second-in- command. Two. I know she's got some problems, but-"

"Got some problems?" I repeated, aghast. "_Got some problems_? Dad, she's a monster! She wrecked the Midtown tunnel! She burned down an apartment building in the Bronx! She's trying to get the Osborn performance enhancer! She almost killed Mom! Dad, she's-"

"_Stop calling me that_!" Dad yelled, his grip on the gun faltering. "I'm not your father! I've never seen you before in my life! I don't know who you are! I'm just a guard! Doe! John Doe!"

"Why can't you remember?" I asked, pleading, tears streaming down my face. "Why can't you remember anything, Dad? Why can't you try? You're Spider-Man! _You're my father_!"

Dad backed away, into the shadows of the second grille. "St-stay where you are. Don't move."

"_Daddy_!" I shrieked.

Dad froze, the gun shaking in his hands. "I...I'm not...I can't be..."

A siren howled, "Alpha-three-eight-one! Alpha-three-eight-one! Intruder alert! Sector Four guards report to loading dock immediately! Intruder alert!"

No one made a sound. All of us stood there, completely frozen. Then Dad said, weakly, "They know you're here."

I knew.

"They'll find you."

They would.

Dad took another step backwards. The room was soundless but for the distant wail of the alarm.

"Get out of here the way you came in. Hurry up and go."

"You...you're letting us go?" Doc asked.

Dad jerked his head at the door. "What do you want? An official document? Get out of here!"

A horrible, wrenching feeling had started somewhere inside me. He was telling us to get away, to escape and leave him behind.

After all of these five years of sorrow and fear and worry, I had found my father. He had been so close, all of this time. And yet so unreachably far. Gone. Forever.

I slowly pulled my mask on and turned to Doc.

"Do you have the formula for the antidote in your lab?"

"No."

"No?" I said. "What? Why not?"

"Because Black Widow destroyed the comp network! I saw her! She took the antidote!" Doc said. "The actual antidote!"

"So it's somewhere inside this place," I said. "This whole place. Great."

"In the lab," Dad said quietly. "If you're talking about a chemical, it'll be in the lab."

Doc whirled around. "What lab? Where?"

Dad hesitated.

"Doe," Doc said. "The life of more than one person depends on that antidote. Spider-Girl says that you're her father, and I believe her. If there's any shred of the real Spider-Man left in you you'll know that what I say is true, and what's going on here is wrong."

"I don't know what's going on here. I just...I just do my job."

"Then do it, Spider-Man. Do your duty."

The seconds ticked by. Thunder crashed again. I couldn't see Dad's face, only the gun trembling in his hands.

"The lab...it's on the other side of the complex. On the east dock. Level B-9. Now go. I don't want to see either of you again."

Dad turned around and walked with forced slowness to the door, past it, and into the corridor.

He turned right and vanished.

Vanished for the second time.

"Spider-Girl," Doc said.

"What," I replied dully.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I said. I didn't move. The siren wailed again, snapping me into a type of empty awareness. I had to get Doc out of here to safety, and I had to find that antidote. I had to do my job. I had to be Spider-Girl, the hero.

Then I could cry.

"We'll use the glider. Let's go. Run!"

We ran, sprinting out through the doors and turning a sharp left into the massive corridor. The light from the docking platform was mockingly distant.

_CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK_!

I had heard that sound before.

"Doc! Stop! Don't move!"

We both froze in midstep. "What? What happened?"

"Shhh!" I hissed. "Don't move. Don't even breathe."

_CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK_..._CLICK_..._CLICK_...

My breath caught in my lungs as the clanking of pointed legs on steel grating echoed down the corridor, and the sound of serrated mandibles clicking together.

"Spiderbots."

"Spider what?"

"Shhh!"

I had frozen off-balance, with only one foot on the ground and the heel of my left foot an inch above the floor. My leg muscles strained. In a few seconds, I would lose my balance and the spiderbots would be on me.

_CLICK_..._CLICK_..._CLICK_...

I heard mandibles snapping and pickaxe legs clanging against the steel grating. They were behind us, and coming closer with slow, deliberate steps. The square of light from the platform glimmered.

"Doc."

"You've got a plan?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Great," Doc said, barely moving his jaw. "What is it?"

"When I say run, you run," I said.

"_That'_s your plan?"

"Do what my dad...what he said. Get across the platform and find the antidote. You have to get it to Harry."

"And what about you?"

"Forget me," I said harshly. "Now go. Run!"

"But-"

"_Now_!" I roared.

I didn't feel any fear. I just said what I had to say, did what I had to do. Deadened.

"Hey! Hey, you! Come on, you little junk heaps! Come and get me!" I whirled around to face them as Doc took off in a sprint.

Five spiderbots were there, at varying distances. Five dully glittering androids crouched and scuttled forwards, razored jaws opening and closing slowly.

I waved my arms over my head and yelled, "Yeah! You see me, don't you? Come on, you freaks!"

I stumbled backwards, still yelling. The spiderbots advanced, now in perfect syncopation.

Despair.

Maybe it was desperation.

I had nothing. No powers, no weapons, no plan. I was about to die.

The first spiderbot sprang.

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth.

_BLAM_! _BLAM_! _BLAM_! _BLAMBLAMBLAM_!

Metal shrieked and shattered. I opened my eyes. At my feet was the twisted wreckage of the first spiderbot, still smoking and covered in bullet holes. I stared down the corridor, astonished. Doc was standing there, looking almost as surprised as I was, and holding the gun. He yelled, "Look out!"

"_Aaaah_!" I dove to the side as the second spiderbot pounced. I tripped and tumbled into the remains of the first android, yelping as my ankle twisted agonizingly. The other four spiderbots whirled and crept forward, mandibles snapping.

My hand fumbled and came up clutching the base of the unfortunate robot's razor jaws. The second spiderbot scuttled forward and I slashed wildy.

_SCREEEEEEE_!

The spiderbot lurched backwards, flailing its front legs. I jerked backward just as one jerked in front of my face. A long, jagged line sliced across the robot's curved motion sensor.

The spiderbot blundered backwards into the third and fourth, still screeching and flailing. I hurled the mandible at the crowd and took off running, my right ankle on fire.

"Go, Doc! Keep going!"

Doc hesitated only a moment as I caught up with him.

A blast of wind and rain hit us as we reached the platform. The sea churned beneath us. Water held no fear for me now. Over the noise of the storm, I couldn't hear our pursuers.

"Get on the glider and fly low to the east dock."

"And you? What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going. I'll find another way to get there," I said flatly.

"Getting yourself killed isn't going to help anything, Spider-Girl!" Doc yelled. "And it's not what your father would have wanted either!"

"I'm not going," I repeated.

Without another word, only struggling to breathe through my rain- soaked mask, I turned to see the trolley where I had hidden the glider.

The trolley was overturned, lying upside down five feet away.

The glider was gone.

"Yes, I'm well aware that neither of you is going anywhere," said Black Widow.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four: The Generator Room

Chapter Twenty-Four

I turned around slowly. I saw the guns first. At least fifteen automatic weapons glinted with reflected lightning. Holding them trained at our heads was a semicircle of suited rig workers, their faceless helmets making them seem more ghostly and mechanical than human.

Standing just behind two of the center guards was Black Widow, appearing oblivious to the freezing rain and surf. Two of her arms were crossed, and a third was holding a clear cylinder filled with an amber liquid. "Looking for this?"

I heard a double click from behind me. Doc had just cocked the gun.

"That won't do you any good, Doctor. One gun against sixteen."

Doc stepped forwards, in front of me. "I'll take that chance."

Black Widow chuckled. "You're so transparent, Dr. Hiller. You think that you'll have a clean getaway because I wouldn't dare harm you, due to the information you posess. Well, guess what?"

Black Widow waved languidly in the direction of the laboratory. "Our chief science officer has devised a way to recreate the formula of the performance enhancer from the substrate signature of your antidote. Very ingenious. I'll have to offer him a pay raise."

I felt a cold chill. What Black Widow was saying was that she had the formula, and that she didn't need Doc alive anymore.

"You're forgetting Spider-Girl."

Black Widow snorted. "A girl in a costume?"

Doc glanced between me and Black Widow, confused.

"Don't tell me you didn't _know_, Doctor. Spider-Girl doesn't exist anymore. The kid standing next to you is nothing more than a normal girl in a suit. Her powers are gone. Oh, dear, hadn't you figured it out by now?"

Doc was slowly turning to stare at me. I couldn't blame him. After all, he was just realizing that he'd put his life in the hands of a high school sophomore who was no stronger or smarter than the next average teenager.

Black Widow gestured in the direction of the guards. "Secure them."

"_Like hell you will_!"

In a lightning movement Doc flipped the gun over, gripped the barrel and swung the gun like a club, catching the nearest guard in the stomach. The guard yelled and dropped his gun, clutching his middle and wheezing.

Two pairs of hands clamped around my right arm. I twisted and threw a punch that once upon a time would have sent the guy flying across the platform.

I missed. He caught hold of my fist and wrenched my arm around in a crushing armlock. I gritted my teeth to strangle a yell of pain. Someone grabbed my left arm and twisted it behind my back. I kicked wildly but hit only air.

"Get them both to the plant. Sandrouni, take your group and scour this platform. I want to know how the little brat got here," Black Widow said.

What? If she didn't know how I'd gotten here, then she couldn't have found the glider...

Then where was it?

"Somebody get Doe and send him to the plant as well."

The guard, Sandrouni, said, "Doe, ma'am?"

"Yes, Doe. There's something I want him to see."

Suddenly my feet were off the ground as the two guards hauled me upright and jerked me around, dragging me back in the direction that we had come. I dug in my heels, earning a stunning blow in the back from the barrel of a gun.

Doc was struggling wildy as they shoved and dragged us back into the corridor. The floor was wet and slippery under my feet. I struggled in their grip, but one guard jerked my twisted arm so hard I thought it would snap.

They marched us past other rooms and corridors that branched off like tunnels in an anthill. Down a curving flight of stairs. Over a catwalk. The throbbing hum of machinery became twice as loud.

Around a corner were two gigantic, sliding steel doors, partially ajar. The inside was dim and flickering. A spark of fear spun through my whirlwind of emotions. Whatever Black Widow had in store for us, it was not going to be at all pleasant. My wounded ankle throbbed.

The guards hauled us through the doors, and Black Widow said, "Lights."

I gasped. The room was massive, nearly the size of a basketball stadium. It had only three walls; the fourth opened out over the ocean, shielded only by a waist-high safety railing. Lightning forked through the black sky.

The wall to our left was blanketed in terminals and switchboards. Lights flashed and graphs spiked. A monitor displaying a ghostly radar weather image swept around.

"This," Black Widow said, with obvious pride, "Is the brainchild of our most distinguished researcher. Figured it out yet, Dr. Hiller? I'm sure you would understand as well, Spider-Girl. You were quite the intelligent student.

"This entire facility is powered by atmospheric energy. The method is unique to our business. The original drilling platform was hydro- electrically powered, but that system didn't yield nearly enough energy for our purposes. So..."

Black Widow waved grandly at the torrential rain over the ocean. Freezing gusts of wind swirled around the room.

"Your average thunderstorm generates enough electrical energy to equal that in over ten nuclear warheads. Naturally, for this type of operation, you would need a generator of truly phenomenal proportions. Such as this one."

The two guards spun me around to face the right, and my breath caught in my throat. I saw first a web of catwalks, with automatic elevator platforms rising and lowering between the levels. Under the net was a tangled mass of angular metal beams and coiled generators taller than telephone poles. The humming of electricity vibrated through the walls and floor.

"Oh, no," Doc murmured. "She's going to...she wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't I?" Black Widow said. "Ah, Doe. Perfect timing."

Dad. I whipped my head around. Through the wall of guards I could see him standing, so small compared to the gargantuan doors. His gun was gone. The mirrored helmet shielded his face, but he started when he saw me, then Doc.

"Yes, Dr. Garcia?" His voice shook the tiniest bit.

"Come over here, Doe. I need your opinion."

Dad hesitated for a moment, then stepped slowly forward. I couldn't see his face, and he couldn't see mine.

Thunder rumbled.

"Take this, Doe." Black Widow handed the antidote to Dad. Harry's life, and the lives of thousands of New Yorkers were contained in that cylinder. In Black Widow's hands, the lives of innocents all over the world.

Dad's fingers closed around the antidote. He stood there, holding it, unsure.

"Now, Doe, ever seen this girl before? No? Is it the mask? The mask alone should be enough to remind you."

Dad didn't move.

Black Widow smiled. "Been with us long, Doe?"

"Three years," Dad said.

"Just three? And where were you before?"

"I...I spent a while in a hospital in Manhattan. After that it was odd jobs in Jersey. A few weeks as a shiploader in Nantucket."

"A shiploader?" Black Widow snorted. "I see. Hardly a demanding profession for a man with two degrees in chemistry and journalism, is it?"

"I don't know what you're getting at."

Black Widow shook her head in mock sorrow, building up the tension cruelly. "Got any family?"

Dad turned his head ever so slightly. "I...no. I don't."

"No family, eh? Good. That means you won't mind this all that much."

Before I could even blink two clawed hands clamped around my shoulders in a bone-crushing grip. I yelled as the ground rushed away as Black Widow sprang twenty feet across the room, landing with a clatter on the highest catwalk above the generator.

"Well?" Black Widow shouted. "Any objections? No? Well, how about _this_?"

"_Aaaauugh_!"

One of Black Widow's hands clenched around my throat and swung me off the catwalk, dangling me barely ten feet above the sparking generator. I gagged and grabbed hold of her wrist with both hands, gasping for air and from the heat of the generator. Black Widow's grip tightened. The air crackled with electricity.

"_What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_?" Dad screamed.

"Are you crazy?" Doc yelled.

"Doctor!" One of the guards yelled, joined by other horrified shouts from below, "Doctor, you can't do that to a kid! You can't-"

Through the whitish haze of my mask I saw Black Widow turn towards me, a hellish triumph dancing in her arachnid eyes. "So, Mayday, anything you'd like to say to your dear old dad standing down there? Or to anyone else? Any pleas for mercy?"

_Mom_..._Dad_..._Benny_..._Grandma_...

Even through my struggle for air, a furious, raging defiance burned inside me. I was about to die, die horribly, but I'd be damned if I was going to beg anything from her!

_Harry_...

"Yes," I gasped. "S-something...to say. To y-you."

_Don't worry about me…don't worry..._

"Oh?" Black Widow inclined her head.

"Yeah." I took a final, wheezing breath.

_Go out as Spider-Girl...like a hero_...

"_Go to hell, you coward_!"

Black Widow snarled and tightened her grip. Blood roared in my ears. She swung around to face Dad, Doc, and the horrified guards below.

"Doe! Are you watching?" Black Widow roared. "_Then watch your daughter die, Spider-Man_!"

She let go.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five: Revenge

Chapter Twenty-Five

I fell.

"Mayday! _Nooooo_!"

_SHHHHHHEWWWHAAAM_! _CRASH_!

"_Aaaaargh_!" I landed hard on my twisted ankle and clapped my hands to my ears as another tremendous crash rocked the plant. Looking up, I gasped and scrambled aside as the twisted remains of the highest catwalk plummeted down, the cables melted and smoldering.

"What...?" I choked.

Why wasn't I dead? My heart was racing. I whipped my head around. I had fallen on a catwalk that was leaning at a crazy angle, balanced on a few crisscrossing beams, just inches above the sparking coils of the generator. There hadn't been any catwalks below.

"You!" I heard Black Widow snarl. I looked up.

Someone shouted, "Guess who's come to crash the party?"

_Harry_!

Harry was standing aboard the glider...the glider that he must have called back. He was in full Hobgoblin regalia, hovering a few yards above and away from Black Widow. From under each wing, both of the missile ports could be seen. One was empty.

He had shot down part of the catwalk to catch me!

There were startled cries from the guards below. Dad was staring up at us, frozen.

The heat was unbearable. Sweat broke out on my forehead as the broken catwalk gave an ominous lurch. I wrapped my fingers through the grating and stumbled to my feet. The catwalk trembled.

Black Widow glanced between me and Harry quickly. She couldn't reach either of us; her size and weight prevented her from getting me, and all Harry had to do was fling that grenade and the whole plant would go up.

"Well if it isn't young master Harry on his white horse!" Black Widow mocked.

Harry was carrying a weapon I had never seen before, a short metal staff about two feet long. He raised it and shifted his grip. Three daggerlike prongs thrust out with a sudden snap, turning it into a razored pitchfork.

Harry pointed the weapon at Black Widow. The other fist was clenching a grenade. "If you ever...try and hurt her again...I swear I'll..." His voice was taut and shaking with a fury that I had never heard before in the sane Harry.

I saw Black Widow shift on the catwalk above. At her sides, hidden from Harry, I saw the middle and ring fingers of each hand begin to bend inward.

"Harry! _Look_ _out_!" I yelled. He had to have seen it, had to have sensed the danger...

But Harry didn't have spider-sense.

He jerked in surprise at my shout, but not enough to dodge when Black Widow fired web from all six wrists, hitting him directly in the face and chest.

Harry rocked backwards on the glider from the force of the web impact, clutching at his face. He dropped the pitchfork. The grenade went flying. Black Widow ducked out of the way. The grenade sailed over her head and bounced down to the floor of the plant as the rig guards dropped Doc and ran for their lives.

The grenade exploded in a tremendous roar of light and fire. I clenched the edge of the catwalk so hard I thought my fingers would break. The catwalk shook and slid backwards.

"Oh, great," I said.

The catwalk seesawed again, tilting backwards towards the crackling transformers. I looked up. The entire severed path was held only by a twisted grill hooked around the highest beam surrounding the generator in a frame. As I watched, the metal of the grill started to bend. The weight of the steel catwalk was straightening it.

I wrapped my fingers through the grill just as Black Widow turned to her guards and, pointing at the struggling Harry, yelled, "Shoot him!"

The guards fumbled with their weapons, stumbling around the grenade's crater. One half-raised her gun and froze. They made no move to shoot.

The catwalk groaned and slid jerkily another foot. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. The entire broken catwalk had turned into a deadly slide. The weight would straighten the hooked cable holding it up. Once the cable straightened, the metal walkway would slide across the beams and straight down into the middle of the generator coils.

"_What are you doing?"_ Black Widow screeched. I saw Harry free an arm, now clawing at the web covering his mask and blinding him. "I said shoot him! Bring him down! Sergeant Freidmann!" Black Widow turned towards the guard that was standing near the front of the group. "Shoot him, Freidmann! Shoot them both!"

There was a muttering, murmuring sound from below.

"Don't move, Freidmann!"

It was Dad.

The catwalk slid again. I slowly reached up, holding my breath, and wrapped my fingers through the grill over my head. If I could get to the top, where there was room to climb out...

But I watched the scene below, openmouthed.

Freidmann, the guard, turned at stared at Dad. "Man...I've got orders...I..." His hands clenched and unclenched around the gun nervously.

"Orders that would make you kill that boy?" Dad shouted.

I grabbed another handhold and braced my feet, dragging myself up towards the beams.

The catwalk slid again.

Dad was still holding the antidote in his left hand, but he seemed to have almost forgotten it. He whirled around and stared up at Black Widow, stabbing a finger in her direction. "What is she trying to do, huh?" He yelled, "You just saw her drop that girl into the generator! Did any of you sign on to be accomplices to murder?"

"They aren't supposed to be here!" Another guard shouted back. "They're jeopardizing everything we've worked for! You know that, Doe!"

"And what's that?" Dad shot back. "What have we worked for? Do you know? How about you, Naish? Or you? Or you?" He turned to face the semicircle of guards. "You don't have any damn idea!"

I climbed another foot. The catwalk didn't move. I saw Harry tearing web from his face.

I just might make it...

Doc suddenly appeared from the small crowd of guards. "How many of you are New Yorkers?" He paused. "Have you been keeping up with what's been going on? Do you know that your sainted doctor collapsed the midtown tunnel? That she orchestrated all of the attacks in the Bronx and Staten Island? For that!" Doc pointed at the antidote in Dad's hand.

"She wants the formula for the OsCorp performance enhancer." Doc's voice dripped disgust. "So she can hand it to her boss. That formula causes madness. It can turn normal, decent men and women into monsters. It causes insanity." Doc paused to let the words sink in, and repeated, "Insanity."

I hauled myself upwards, muscles trembling with the strain of keeping my balance. Just five more feet...five more...

"So go ahead. Go along with this. And then the blood of those who will suffer will be on your hands as much as hers."

The other guards were muttering. Black Widow sucked in a hissing breath. "I promise you, Freidmann, and all of you. If you disobey my orders, you'll pay so dearly..." Black Widow trailed off.

Freidmann took a step forward, raised his gun...

And threw it to the ground.

"Get someone else to do your dirty work, Garcia."

I gritted my teeth, focusing on that beam, sweat dripping down my face. Three more feet...

A woman came forward next and tossed her gun next to Freidmann's. "Who the hell are you really, Doe?"

Harry was ripping at the web binding his other arm. Black Widow's eyes were flickering wildly between me, Harry, and the crowd below. One by one, then in twos and threes, eight more guards came forward and tossed their guns onto the growing pile.

Two more feet...

Six guards hadn't moved. Dad said, "What do you stand for now?" He didn't sound at all like the nervous, horrified man that he had been only moments before.

A guard shook his head. "Look, Doe, I signed on. I said I'd do my job, and I will. I don't go back on deals."

Just one...more...foot...

Then Harry flung off the web, the six guards opened fire, and Black Widow kicked the broken catwalk into space just as my hand touched the beam.

"_Aaaaah_!"

The catwalk disappeared from under me. I flung my arms around the beam as the metal pathway tumbled back and crashed into the generator with an earsplitting screech. Sparks flew and blue bolts of electricity shot into the air. The beam grew hot.

Bullets ricocheted off of Harry's armor in all directions, not penetrating but throwing him backwards. One whined past my ear. Black Widow bounded over the coils to the opposite side of the frame, dodging bullets and yelling, "Hold! Hold your fire!"

I couldn't hold on to the beam! It was much too wide, and the cloth of my gloves didn't grip at all. It was a ten foot drop to the floor.

Harry shouted, "Mayday! Doc! Shut your eyes!" when I lost my grip.

There was a brilliant flash and a strangely muffled explosion. I landed hard on my feet and staggered, clapping my hands over my eyes and squeezing them shut. I heard only a clattering and the roar of the waves.

I opened my eyes tentatively and saw the remains of a grenade in the middle of the floor, but no crater. Almost every single one of the guards was flat on the floor, unconscious. Doc and Dad both lowered their arms from their faces.

Harry drifted down calmly. "I'm sorry about them," he nodded at the guards, many of whom had thrown down their weapons, "but I had to get the shooters. They'll be fine when they wake up."

"Which is more than I can say for you, Osborn." Black Widow landed crouched with shocking suddenness in the middle of the floor, staring around at us with predatory alertness. She was huge, threatening, terrifying. Only Harry could stand a chance against her now.

Dad moved to stand directly in front of me, blocking Black Widow's path. "How long has it been," he asked. "Since you've known? I don't know who I am. I don't remember anything before the past five years. And you know why, don't you?"

Black Widow's smile looked more like the grimace of a death's-head. "I do...Spider-Man. But if I were you, I'd be worrying about someone else. Someone who should be arriving any moment now, and who also has a score to settle with you. Isn't that right, Mr. Osborn?"

Black Widow rolled her eyes to look up at the hovering Harry, who hadn't moved. He seemed to be frozen where he stood.

"Yes," Black Widow said, full of a gleeful malice that made my blood run cold. "If my assumptions are correct, I'd say he's coming back just...about..._now_."

Black Widow took another bound backwards, away from us. "Shall we watch?"

I stared up at Harry, filled with a gripping, freezing horror. Harry suddenly collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, tumbling off the glider and landing on his back on the floor, wrenching at his helmet.

"Harry!" I rushed forward, grabbed his arm, tried to pull him to his feet. Harry sagged again, ripping his mask off. His face was white, and sweat poured down his face in rivers. He started to shake.

"Mayday...get out...go...he's back...Hob-..."

"Give him the antidote!" Doc yelled, running forward. "It's the liquid! Doe!"

Black Widow was standing a few meters away, with an amused expression that sent a stab of rage through my heart. I grabbed Harry's shoulders and heaved him up as Dad fumbled to open the cylinder. I grabbed Harry's hand. "Come on...stay with me, Harry..."

Harry went limp, his jaw slack. His eyes were half-shut and unfocused.

"Oh, no," Doc whispered.

"Come on, Dad, hurry! Hurry-_aaaaahh_!"

Harry's hand crunched shut around mine in a viselike grip, crushing my fingers together. His eyes snapped open, glinting an eerie green from the reflected lightning.

"Well, hello, Spider-Girl," Harry said, in a voice that had haunted my nightmares. His teeth were bared in an insane grimace, half grin, half snarl. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Hobgoblin.

His grip tightened agonizingly. My bones were about to break. "Let..._go_!"

Hobgoblin jerked my arm forward, bringing our faces inches apart. "Why? You've taken such a great interest in my welfare, Spider-Girl. Doesn't that mean we're close friends?"

I felt something snap in my hand and strangled a scream of pain. My right hand. I was right-handed. Hobgoblin thought he had put me out of commission.

I drew back my left fist and swung as hard as I could. My knuckles connected solidly with his head. I ignored the pain shooting up my arm as Hobgoblin let go, clamping a hand over his eye.

"Now! Dad!"

Dad rushed forward in front of me with the antidote. I think he meant to throw it in Harry's face. Hobgoblin stumbled to his feet. I ran forward.

Hobgoblin pulled back his fist. I knew that a punch from his could send someone flying, something no normal human could ever survive.

"Dad!" I yelled. "_Look out_!"

The antidote smashed on the floor.

Hobgoblin swung, hitting Dad squarely in the chest, knocking him into me, and sending us both flying backwards.

Straight into the side of the generator.

_KSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH_!

"_AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHH_!"

I felt the coils of the generator slam into my back an instant before my body exploded in a white-hot, ripping pain. I fell forward, collapsing on my knees on the cool floor. I couldn't breathe. I heard Dad fall down next to me.

Agony rippled through my muscles and fireworks exploded in my head. I was shaking apoplectically. Pain slashed across the inside of my wrists like razor blades.

We had only slammed into the side of the generator and the pain was excruciating. Through a fog I saw Dad reach up and tear the helmet off his head, taking in huge gasps of air.

It was him, almost exactly as I remembered. Only now his hair was tinged with gray. He was blinking, one hand to his forehead, as if waking from a dream. He turned to look at me.

"M-…_Mayday_?"

I stumbled to my feet. My broken hand had stopped hurting. "Dad...you okay?" I wheezed. The roaring surf reached nearly to the dock. We had fallen just in front of the guard rail protecting the workers from the sea.

"'_Dad'_? Did you call him..." I heard Hobgoblin gasp. He was there, and Doc a few yards behind him. Hobgoblin had put his helmet back on. The yellow eyes burned in Dad's direction.

Dad's own eyes widened. "Norman?"

"No, not at all," Black Widow called. I had almost forgotten that she was there. "See what your meddling has led to, Spider-Man! Your-"

Black Widow stopped in midsentence, and I'm sure that for an instant we were thinking the exact same thing.

_How had Dad remembered the name of the Green Goblin_?

"You," Hobgoblin hissed. "You. You're Spider-Man." His voice rose to a mad, hate-filled shriek.

"_You killed my father_!"

_DANGER_!

I jerked backwards as Hobgoblin made a backhand blow in my direction, meaning to swat me aside. Instead he lunged at Dad, grabbing him by the throat with both hands. Dad drew back his fist and brought it smashing into the side of Hobgoblin's head. Hobgoblin reeled backwards but didn't loosen his grip. They overbalanced.

"_Noooo_!" With a speed I didn't know I possessed, I sprinted forward just as they both tumbled over the railing and towards the raging ocean below.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six: Truth

Chapter Twenty-Six

A crash of thunder, a screech of laughter, and I was flinging myself over the railing and stretching out my arm in a feeble, desperate reach.

_Thwip_!

I caught hold of the top of the railing as an added weight jerked my right arm. I looked down. My eyes traveled from the slit in my sleeve, down the line of webbing that stretched inexplicably from my right wrist to Dad's back.

Dad and Hobgoblin were still fighting, dangling just feet above the waves crashing against the support pillars. Dad pounded furiously at Hobgoblin's head, but Hobgoblin didn't release his death grip on Dad's throat. The wind gusted, slamming them both into a steel support pylon. Dad slapped his hand against the pylon, drew back his fist, and punched Hobgoblin in the head with all of his strength.

Hobgoblin's head snapped back. I saw his grip loosen, falter.

I couldn't reach him. Too far. He was too far!

"Harry! Harry, no!" I screamed.

Hobgoblin fell.

He fell in slow motion, the one who used to be Harry Osborn, feet first into the ocean. I saw lightning reflecting off his armor as the waves closed over his head.

I heard Doc yelling something from behind me, but I couldn't tell what.

Something roared over my head and dove straight down towards the ocean. The glider. It wouldn't make it; how could Hobgoblin swim in that armor? How could he...

"_Harry_!" I screamed.

A familiar warning buzzed to life inside my head. I twisted out of the way a split second before Black Widow's claws raked down and gouged into the floor.

_My spider-sense_!

I stood there, gasping, feeling an almost-forgotten strength surging through my muscles. My palms were prickling. My powers...my spider-sense, my webbing...

Maybe it was the electrical shock, I didn't know, and I didn't have time to think on it. But my powers...my powers were back!

Black Widow stood there, snarling.

Black Widow, Elaine Garcia. The real cause.

The real reason that my dad had vanished and spent five years of his life not knowing who he was or where he came from. The reason my mom cried herself to sleep, the reason my little brother grew up without a father, and the reason that so many people were suffering. The monster who had kidnapped Doc. The creature who had stood by and laughed as Hobgoblin reemerged. The woman who was responsible for the death of my best friend and who had nearly destroyed my family.

The creature whose very image caused a well of black, consuming rage to roar through me. No, not rage. This wasn't anger. This was something else.

Hatred.

I hated her. I hated her with every fiber of my being, this vile, evil monster...

"So, little Mayday," said Black Widow. "It comes to this."

I stepped backwards to the railing, chancing a glance downwards. Dad...Dad was wallcrawling. Slowly, uncertainly, he was pulling himself up the pylon, hand over hand.

"Yeah," I said, "It comes to this."

I grasped the top bar of the railing. It was about an inch in diameter, solid steel. The metal bar felt like a twig in my hands, and the steel buckled under my fingers as I twisted it off. I held the section of steel up at my eye level, making sure that Black Widow could see it clearly.

I gripped both ends and said, "And just so you know..." I folded the bar into an arc and tossed it aside. "My name is Spider-Girl."

Black Widow's eyes flickered quickly from the pieces of metal to my mask. She seemed to waver, and I saw the tiniest spark of some vague emotion in her dead eyes.

It was fear.

Black Widow forced a mocking smile onto her face, but it was unsteady. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut in, struggling to keep my voice level.

This would end. Here. Now. It wasn't just about me and my family. It was my responsibility to stop this monster, this twisted wreckage of humanity. My job, My duty came with who I was. Mayday Parker, Spider-Girl.

But it wasn't really my duty that kept me standing. It was another, different, darker thought.

I'll make you pay.

"Are you afraid?" I shouted. It was hard to talk, and hard to keep the furious snarl out of my voice.

Black Widow roared and sprang at me. I dove under her and tumbled out fo the way as she clattered against the wall, crouching and tensing for another spring.

I landed a few yards away, on my feet again.

Black Widow raised all six arms and extended thirty claws. "I'm not bothering with any venom, Parker. This time you die!"

My broken hand ached. Pain lanced up my arm. Ignoring the sickening feeling of bone grinding against bone, I forced my fingers into a fist.

Black Widow sprang. I leaped into the air, somersaulted, and came down feet first onto the back of her neck, slamming her facedown on the floor. Just as quickly Black Widow swung an arm around behind her and backhanded me in the side of my head.

I staggered backwards, flashes of light exploding in my vision. A hand...no, two hands wrapped around my throat and slammed me to the floor, slowly cutting off my air. I drew back both feet and kicked upwards. Black Widow's head snapped back for an instant, then came forward again, growling. "Oh, so it's 'Spider-Girl' again, is it, Mayd-"

"_Take your hands off my daughter!_"

An indistinct blur slammed into Black Widow and she let go of me with a screech, tumbling backwards. A hand gripped my arm and slowly pulled me to my feet.

"D-Dad?" I choked, struggling for breath.

Dad was there, looking battered and exhausted, but with the strength to manage a small smile. "It's me, Mayday. It's...it's me."

A lump formed in my throat. "You...remember?"

Dad nodded slowly, his smile widening slightly. "Mayday...I can't believe it. It was like yesterday you were ten years old, and now..."

"Parker!" A malevolent hiss interrupted Dad. I turned around slowly. Black Widow was crouching a few yards away, eyeing us warily.

"Garcia. It was you all along. You. You stole my family, my life..." Dad's voice trembled, but whether it was with fury or sorrow I couldn't tell.

Black Widow shifted, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Doc leaning over a guard, taking his pulse.

Doc.

A wave of frustration boiled up inside me. I...we...had to get Doc out of here. That was what I had come for. I couldn't fight Black Widow!

Dad was still talking, reasoning. "I didn't kill Osborn, Garcia."

Black Widow hissed like a cat, and stabbed a finger at the air over our heads. "Tell that to _him_!"

Dad and I whirled, and I gasped. Hobgoblin crouched on his glider, clenching the pitchfork. He was alive! He spoke, starting in a flat monotone which rose into a mad shriek. "_You think you can get rid of me that easily_?"

"Mayday," Dad whispered, without moving his lips. "She's coming up behind us...when I say..."

"Now you're here!" Hobgoblin ranted insanely with Harry's stolen voice. I watched him, aghast. If Hobgoblin had had any last vestige of sanity within him, it had finally snapped. "I no longer need Spider-Girl! I'll kill _you_! Just like you killed him! I'll-"

"Jump!" Dad shouted. He grabbed my hand and we sprang into the air just as Black Widow's claws whistled through the air below us. Dad fired a webline from his left wrist and I followed suit, swinging away to land against the wall. Dad landed next to me, his back against the wall, supporting himself with his fingetips and the soles of his feet.

"Just like old times," Dad muttered. "Mid-air dodge, web, and somersault landing. One of my specialties."

I managed a small smile under my mask. "My favorite's the free fall."

I saw the guards, all lying across the plant near the generator. A few were sitting up, and Doc was just helping one to his feet. He cast a stricken look at us.

Black Widow and Hobgoblin turned as one to face us. Hobgoblin pointed at us. "Do what you want with Spider-Girl," he said, "But Spider-Man's mine!"

"You know, this time I agree with you," Black Widow seethed.

"Here it comes..._go_!" Dad yelled. We pushed off as Hobgoblin hurled a grenade. It whirled past my head as I shot a web line. It collided with the wall and detonated. The shock wave almost knocked me out of the air. I released and dropped to the floor.

In an instant Black Widow was there, slashing wildly. My spider-sense was screaming like a siren, ordering me to jump, to dodge, to leap. I sprang into the air and whirled, delivering a double spinning kick to her head. She grabbed my ankle and jerked upwards, sending me tumbling backwards. My broken hand was on fire.

I landed hard on my side and twisted away as she crashed down where I had fallen a second before.

We were both up again, circling around, waiting for the other's move. To Black Widow's left was the wall of computer terminals, screens and lighted keyboards glowing eerily. Another explosion rattled the plant. I could see Dad and Hobgoblin over Black Widow's shoulder. Hobgoblin was on the ground again, his glider nowhere to be seen, stabbing brutally with the pitchfork. Dad was evading him, trying to speak. "I didn't kill your father! It was an accident!"

"_Liar_!" Hobgoblin hissed.

"See what you have done?" Black Widow whispered viciously to me. "See what you both have done? See all the lives you people have destroyed? See-"

"You tell me about lives I've destroyed?" I snarled. "_Just like you've destroyed my family_?" I sprinted forward, blinded with rage, swinging wildly. I'd get her, I'd make her pay for what she had done to us!

A single fist crashed against my head and sent me sprawling, fireworks exploding in my eyes. I staggered forward again and leaped into the air delivering the hardest blow I could to Black Widow's face. Black Widow lurched backwards, crashing heavily into the blinking wall of terminals. Sparks flew.

"Warning," said a mellow voice from the wall. "Power regulation system is off-line. Attempting emergency override."

Black Widow paused, and it was in that instant that I charged, swinging my fists. I felt my fractured hand impact and nearly screamed in agony. Black Widow whipped an arm around and clamped a gigantic talon around my wounded hand, squeezing like a vice.

"_Aaaaaaaaahh_!"

This time I couldn't strangle the scream that erupted from my throat. Black Widow steadily tightened her grip, grinning wickedly, twin devils dancing in her eyes. I could feel the broken bones compressing, being smashed against each other.

The lights of the plant flickered. Another mechanical voice droned. "Emergency override has failed. Emergency override has failed. Manual override necessary. Window for manual override expires in four minutes."

My legs buckled and I was on my knees, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, spider-sense howling a desperate alarm.

"Is this the hardest challenge this city has to offer?" Black Widow mocked.

"You...are..._pathetic_!" I gasped.

"I'm not the one on my knees." Black Widow clenched her fingers shut and I almost collapsed from the agony.

My vision blurred. My left arm felt like lead as I heaved it up, stiffened my fingers, and chopped down on Black Widow's forearm with all of my strength.

_Snap_!

Black Widow let out a horrible, reverberating screech and released my hand. I staggered to my feet, feeling as if red hot spikes were being driven through my hand. Black Widow clutched her broken upper left forearm, her lips pulled back from her fangs in a grimace.

"Repeat: emergency override failure. Window for manual override expires in two minutes." The lights failed suddenly, then flickered back on. An ominous buzz from the generator rose in pitch.

My spider-sense flared and I somersaulted backwards a second before a hail of bullets tore into the wall behind me. Black Widow screamed.

The Hobgoblin glider swerved away and back to the opposite end of the plant, back towards its true target. The bullets had been meant for Dad, who had dodged out of the way just in time.

Black Widow staggered, clutching her side. She raised that hand to her face, and I saw black blood dripping from her fingers.

"Window for manual override expires in sixty seconds."

The meaning of the computerized voice finally hit home. Black Widow had damaged the power regulation system. The system was probably what controlled the amount of energy flowing from the generator. If it were damaged, then the entire generator would go up in a matter of minutes.

Taking the plant with it...

Black Widow lurched towards me, towards the terminals. Making my decision in a heated second, I spun around and smashed my good fist through the keyboard panel, grasped the net of power cables and ripped them out.

"_No_!" Black Widow surged forward, shoving me aside, scanning the wall frantically. A deafening siren howled.

"Warning! Manual override drive off-line. Core implosion imminent!"

A shower of blue sparks sprayed from the generator and pattered over the floor. Black Widow turned to me with a murderous growl, stretched out her claws...and stumbled.

I stepped backwards, shocked, as Black Widow groaned and clutched at her side. Black blood leaked through her fingers. She had been hit by one of the glider's bullets.

The lights went out, and I felt a whoosh as something rushed over my head. I whirled, squinting through the darkness. The lights flickered back on.

Black Widow was gone.

"Warning! Core implosion estimated in twenty minutes, twenty-three seconds. Evacuate!"

I searched frantically, scanning the walls, the ceiling. Where had she gone? I dashed into the middle of the massive hangar, just in time to see Dad hurl Hobgoblin into the opposite wall. I sucked in my breath in horror as he crashed against the wall and collapsed, gasping.

"I didn't kill your father, Harry. It was an accident. I-"

Hobgoblin replied with an animalistic snarl. The opaque yellow eye shields slid up into his helmet, revealing a pair of blazing gray eyes that had once belonged to Harry Osborn.

"He saw you," Hobgoblin whispered. "Seven years ago. You were there. He saw you...with the body..."

I saw Hobgoblin's hand creeping towards the keypad on his left wrist, and I knew. A split second before the glider tore over my head towards Dad's unguarded back, two saberlike blades extending from its front.

"Dad!" I screamed, "Look out!"

I had once thought I was good ad what I did. It seemed so long ago. I was overconfident and full of myself, convinced that no one was faster or stronger or more skillfull than I was.

But when I saw my dad in action, I realized how much I still had to learn.

Dad moved so fast that time seemed to freeze around him. Without glimpsing the glider he leaped into the air, turning a perfect backflip as the glider's blades scored the air millimeters beneath him, continuing its deadly course, straight for Hobgoblin.

But Dad wasn't finished.

He landed, whirled around and fired web from both wrists, connecting squarely with Hobgoblin's glider and halting it in midair, the glittering blades quivering inches away from Hobgoblin's head.

I watched, openmouthed, as Hobgoblin stared wide-eyed in horrified facination at what he had almost done. What Dad had saved him from.

Dad gripped the web lines and wrenched, yanking the glider away and hurling it into the space behind him. Hobgoblin pulled his helmet off, gasping for air. He was black and blue, his lips split, blood dripping from his nose and the corner of his mouth. He stared at me, then at Dad, completely astonished.

"You...saved..._me_?"

"You see now?" Dad said. "Do you know what would have happened to you, Hobgoblin? The exact same thing that happened to your father!"

"No..." Hobgoblin breathed. "No, no, it can't be...you're lying!"

"He killed himself with his own glider, Harry, when I got out of the way. I didn't kill him. It was an accident." Dad swallowed. "Right before he died, the real Norman Osborn came back. And he looked at me and said, 'Don't tell Harry.'"

"No...that's not true! You killed him, you had to have killed him! You're lying! _You're_ _lying_!" Hobgoblin screamed.

Then I understood.

Hobgoblin was the reflection of Harry, Harry's own demons brought to life through the OsCorp performance enhancer. He had been alive, sharing Harry's body for months, the other half of his mind. He had lived only on his own anger, lurking, feverishly anticipating the moment when he could take his revenge for the crime and laugh in his enemy's face.

Only to find out that there was no crime, and that he had no enemy.

"You're lying! You're lying!" Hobgoblin yelled hysterically, madly, a terrible desperation etched over his features.

After all he had done, what he had tried to do to me and Dad, what he had already done to Harry, when he had endangered the lives of hundreds of people. I remembered Times Square, the Staten Island tour boat...

I stood there, staring at this pitiful, twisted creature, built on the hatred of a teenaged boy, who thrived on the one single belief that had just been robbed from him.

He stared at Dad, eyes stretched wide, teeth bared, shaking his head.

I remembered Times Square, the terror that he had caused, the faces of the people and that reporter, screaming and running for their lives. I remembered Hobgoblin laughing, and the shock and anger that I had felt.

But now, all I felt was pity.

I walked over to stand next to Dad.

"Core implosion estimated in sixteen minutes."

I heard and saw out of the corner of my eye Doc helping the guards to their feet, ushering them out, urging them to safety. The last guard stumbled groggily after her companions, and Doc hurried over to stand beside me.

Hobgoblin's eyes flickered wildly between the three of us. He looked like a trapped animal.

"Let it go, Harry," said Doc. "It's over."

Hobgoblin's face contorted into a bizarre echo of his mask. "It's not over. _It'll never be over!_" He lurched up, lunging towards us, his hands curled into claws...

And stopped in midstep.

"Core implosion estimated in fifteen minutes."

Hobgoblin froze, trembling, his face twitching. He jerked backwards as if pulled by puppet strings, sweat streaming down his forehead.

"Osborn, what do you think you're doing?" Hobgoblin roared. "You...you coward! You...you weak-willed..._aaaahh_!"

Hobgoblin clutched at his head, and his voice changed completely. "Give it up, damn it! Give it up! You're pathetic! You've got nothing to live for! Nothing! You aren't me! You're nothing! _Nothing!_" Harry shouted.

"Coward! Coward! Coward!" Hobgoblin chanted insanely. I ran forward and grabbed Harry's shoulders, ignoring the searing pain in my hand.

"Come on, Harry, come on! He's losing! Hobgoblin's losing! Fight him, Harry!"

"Core implosion estimated in thirteen minutes."

Harry's body shuddered violently, sagging under my grip. He fell against the wall and slid down.

I gaped, horrified. "Harry? Harry!"

Harry looked up at me dimly. "Mayday..."

"It's me. It's me. Come on, Harry..."

"Please," Harry gasped, air wheezing in his lungs, "Oh, God, Mayday, please...help me."

I stared into his eyes for a moment, not understanding. Then, I reached over and tapped him on his left temple. He closed his eyes and slid to the floor, unconcious.

A brief respite.

I gently put my arms under Harry's shoulders and knees. I paused, then placed the helmet back over his head. Whatever happened, his identity would be safe. I lifted him up.

"Dad?" I turned to look at him. Doc likewise did the same.

"Core implosion in twelve minutes."

Dad's brow furrowed, and he stared down at the floor for a moment. "Three hundred personnel, including the guards. They'll have taken all of the escape boats."

"We're stuck here?" Doc asked.

Dad's head snapped up. "No. The seaplane. Fifty miles of fuel and room for six. On the south docks. Let's go!"

We took off in a sprint for the massive doors, Dad and I having to save our speed in order for Doc to keep up. I tightened my grip on Harry, praying that Hobgoblin wouldn't come to before Harry did.

"Core implosion estimated in ten minutes."

Down the huge corridor, past painted steel doors and docks.

"Mayday! Can you keep up if I webswing?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay!"

"Hey, but..._whoa_!" Doc yelled as Dad suddenly grabbed him around the waist, pinning his arms to his sides and leaped into the air, swinging one- handed down the corridor. I quickened my pace, dashing for all I was worth, suddenly blessing my old track coach for teaching us the all-out.

Dad turned a sharp corner and I skidden after him. A blast of rain blew into my face as we reached a large open platform, once a helicopter pad, Through the rain, I could barely see the receding lights of twelve escape boats.

Dad dropped lightly down beside me and set a shaking, wide-eyed Doc on his feet. "There! There!"

The seaplane bobbed in the waves, chained to the platform. It was small, propellered, with two wide skis. We rushed over, slipping on the platform in the driving rain.

"Core implosion estimated in nine minutes."

Dad grabbed the chain and snapped it, then clambered up and wrenched the door open. "I don't supposed either of you knows how to fly this thing?"

"There's something I can do." Doc pushed forward. "Air Force for three years."

"You were?" I asked, feeling like nothing would surprise me now.

Doc grinned. "I flew in the Gulf, med transports. I can manage this."

"Hurry, get in!" Dad yelled over the shrieking wind. Doc climbed into the cockpit, and I hurried forward with Harry. Dad reached forward to pull him into the plane. I froze.

Oh, no.

My eyes widened.

"Dad!" I gasped. "The antidote!"

Dad stared for a split second, then horrified understanding dawned on his face.

Doc didn't have any more antidote in his lab. Black Widow had made sure of that. She had stolen the data and destroyed the rest. There was no way Doc could reconstruct the formula in time.

The only antidote left in the world existed in a drilling platform that was about to explode.

"We've got to go back!" I shouted.

Doc said, "Here! Leave Harry here!"

Dad took Harry and hesitated, "If Hobgoblin wakes up you won't have a chance!"

"I'll risk it! Without that antidote the whole thing starts all over again!"

Dad lay Harry across two seats inside the plane and jumped down. I made a decision, glanced at Dad. He looked back, and nodded grimly.

I turned to Doc and yelled, "Doc! If we're not back a minute before implosion, take off! Understand! Don't wait for us!"

Dad turned to me and smiled lopsidedly. "Think Spider-Girl and Spider- Man can pull this off?"

I smiled back weakly under my mask. "Only one way to find out."

"Then let's go!"

The speaker called in an absurdly calm tone, "Core implosion estimated in eight minutes."

Dad and I turned and ran back for the doors.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven: Showdown

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Warning! Atmospheric energy regulation system destabilizing. Core implosion estimated in seven minutes, fifty seconds."

The inside of the rig seemed much warmer than it had moments before, even through my soaked costume. The water that had drained in from the storm was evaporating into clouds. Spikes of pain shot up my arm from my broken hand.

Dad led and I followed, sprinting down grey, sterile corridors and making hairpin turns around corners. The ceilings were beginning to slope down, giving the impression that we were running through a tunnel.

"It's not much farther!" Dad yelled over his shoulder. "We'll take the shortcut through the heatings! They're off!"

"Okay!" I forced more power into my legs, catching up with Dad. The damp air, tinged with salt, rushed through my lungs. I tried to ignore the computerized voice droning, "Core implosion estimated in seven minutes, twenty seconds."

Concentrate, Mayday. Follow Dad and run. Jut run.

I couldn't think about the fear. I had to ignore it, or I would freeze in my tracks. Ignore the fear, ignore the pain. I had to keep focused! Antidote. Antidote. Find the antidote.

My spider-sense flared and I narrowly avoided crashing into Dad's back as he halted. It was another set of doors, not nearly as huge as the ones leading into the plant, but bolted across with an automatic lock. A keypad was embedded in the wall beside it, beside a small speaker.

Dad yelled, "Doe, six one four four!"

The keypad beeped, and the computer said, "Facility under automatic lockdown. Access denied."

Dad took a step backwards. I went forward and jammed my fingers into the seam between the steel doors. "This ought to work better. Grab on!"

Dad gripped the edge of the opposite door. "On three! One! Two! _Three_!"

I braced my feet against the metal floor and heaved. The gears shrieked as the metal buckled under my fingers. Dad flattened his door against the threshold.

"Core implosion estimated in seven minutes."

A blast of heat hit me full in the face. The room was almost as large as the generator room, humid and very dim. The walls went up and up and simply disappeared into black shadow. I blinked.

"There's no floor!"

"There is, but it's about fifty feet below." Dad pointed downwards into the hot, oppressive darkness. "See those?"

I hung onto the edge of the threshold and leaned forward. Steel pillars, hundreds of them, nearly five feet in diameter rose up from the blackness below to floor level. They stretched in rows across the room like giant stepping stones. Their tops were covered with some kind of machinery. I could barely make out the faint outline of another door, much like the one we had just destroyed.

"Those are the gas jets. We'll hop 'em across, and we'll be right at the lab."

"Dad?" I asked. "Are you sure these are off?"

"I shut them off myself an hour ago. They're-"

"Core implosion in six minutes, fifty seconds," the computer droned.

"Come on." Dad sprang from the threshold and landed neatly in the center of the first jet.

"All right," I said, and followed. Something was warning me, and it wasn't my spider-sense. Something in the back of my mind that repeated, It can't be this easy.

Still, I followed Dad, bounded lightly from jet to jet. The light from the jammed doors receded behind us and nearly disappeared as we reached the middle of the row.

Then my spider-sense started to tingle. Dad froze, a pillar ahead of me.

_Huuuuuummmmmmm_.

"What was that?"

Dad turned around and stared at me. I saw the color drain from his face. "That's not possible..."

A light flared at my feet and I jumped. A ring of tiny red lights circled the surface of the pillar, directly surrounding the gas jet. Up and down the rows of pillars, red rings winked on. I leaped and landed on Dad's pillar, which was also aglow.

"What's going on?" A feeling of immense dread swept over me.

"The jets are about to ignite! Someone's activated them!"

"Three guesses who," I muttered.

_KSSSSSH_! _KSSSSSH_! _KSSSSSH_!

At the far end of the echoing room, just in front of the doors we entered, three gigantic blue jets of fire exploded from the pillars.

"Run! Now! Now!" Dad yelled. He grabbed my hand and leaped, pulling me after him.

_KSSSSSH_! _KSSSSSH_! _KSSSSSH_!

Three more jets flared behind us. Each flame was much longer than I was tall, and nearly five feet wide. Sweat prickled on my forehead and my heart leaped into my throat.

"Hurry! Go! Go!" Dad screamed. I followed at his heels as we bounded from jet to jet. The pillars behind us were erupting in roaring fire. The temperature soared.

I tasted blood in my mouth, and my pulse raced. The jets were igniting faster and faster, all around us. We were trapped in a volcano. We weren't going to make it!

Dad stopped suddenly and I landed beside him. "Oh no..."

There was a gap of fifteen feet between this section of rows, like a channel cutting through the inferno. At the other end of the room, the rows of jets were roaring to life in the opposite direction, coming towards us in sudden bursts of flame. There was nowhere to go.

Five pillars behind us, a jet ignited.

Dad and I looked around frantically. There was nowhere to swing, nowhere to jump...we were going to be burned alive!

The fourth jet ignited.

"Mayday..." Dad whispered. "Oh, God, I got us into this..."

I swallowed hard, feeling the sour taste of my own terror rise in my throat. The third jet ignited, and I saw the first jet, far at the opposite wall, wink out. The jets must be timed, I realized, an eerie, intense concentration seeping over my fear. They burned for a few seconds, then switched off. They reminded me of huge Bunsen burners. A bright blue inner cone of flame, enveloped by the larger, less distinct outer cone.

The second jet ignited as another far-off row of fire disappeared.

Like Bunsen burners...

I felt the metal beneath my feet grow warm.

"Dad!" I screamed, "Hold your breath!" I grabbed his arm and pulled him next to me in the center of the jet, just as the world dissolved into a deafening roar of fire.

I shut my eyes and squeezed Dad's arm, holding my breath and praying that Dad was doing the same. Air blasted up from the jet in a hurricane of wind, feeding the wall of blue flames that raged inches away from us, surrounding us in a pyramid of fire. I started to tremble. My lungs were burning. This was worse than being underwater, far worse. I was drowning in fire.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the fire dissolved around us and air rushed into my lungs. The system was resetting; the first jets were igniting all over again. Dad was white and sweating, gasping for air.

"Core implosion estimated in six minutes, ten seconds."

The cool, impassive voice galvanized us into action. Not looking back, we sprang, dashing across the room as the jets burned hundreds of feet behind us. Dad jumped from the last pillar and hit the doors feet first, bashing them open. I tumbled after him, feeling as if nails were being driven through my hand. The corridor was calm and cold, such stark contrast to the raging inferno behind us that I almost laughed.

"What...happened?" Dad asked, leaning against the wall. Sweat streamed down his face.

"The air and gas circulate really fast in the flame's inner cone. The low air pressure creates a heat vacuum, so the inner cone doesn't get hot. Just like..."

"Just like a Bunsen burner," Dad finished. He stared at me in amazement. "Where did you learn that?"

I thought, and the irony of the answer made me burst out laughing. "Ch-chemistry class!"

Dad blinked, confused at my hilarity. I swallowed my laughter. "It's a long story. No time for it now."

"Good point. This way!" Dad took off down the twisting corridor and I forced my legs to follow him. The passageway narrowed even further. Dad halted in front of a simple metal door with a handle. LABORATORY 01.

"This is it? Giant doors for a generator and just a little one for the lab?" I asked incredulously.

"This place was guarded day and night." Dad reached forward and twisted the handle. It didn't move. He took a step backwards and ripped the door of its hinges. "I'd say that worked better."

"Core implosion estimated in five minutes, fifty seconds."

The lab was brightly lit, massive, and totally empty. Swivel chairs were revolving slowly at desks and tables. Three towering electron microscopes stretched from the floor to the ceiling, each screen flickering different atomic structures. Someone's overturned coffee puddled on the floor by a desk. I swallowed. For Black Widow to have a lab this size, a base this elaborate...this plot was huge, beyond comprehension...

"There it is!" I pointed at the row of glass cases lining the far wall. A flask of amber liquid glimmered in the light like a beacon among other flasks of chemicals. I ran forward and pulled the case apart with my good hand. I grabbed the flask by its neck and rushed back to Dad.

"That's it? You're sure?"

"Positive. Dad?"

"Yeah?"

I forced a weak grin under my mask. "Is there another way back?" The side of Dad's mouth curled up in a shaky smile. "We'll take the long way."

"Core implosion in five minutes, thirty seconds."

We started running, out of the brightly-lit lab and back into the dim corridors. They twisted and turned around us like anthill tunnels that went on for yards and yards, seeming to spiral in on each other like a deadly maze. _You got in, did you?_ the place seemed to mock. _Let's see you get out_.

The pain in my hand was worse than before, but I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to run.

"Core implosion estimated in four minutes, fifty seconds."

Dad turned a sharp corner and suddenly there we were, back on the dock where we had started. Rain blew and the wind howled around the rig. I could see the seaplane bobbing up and down on the waves and Doc leaning out of the cockpit, squinting through the rain. We sprinted forwards, through the storm. He saw us a gestured wildly, disappearing back into the cockpit. The seaplane's propellers spun to life.

Dad hopped aboard and reached down to help me up. The plane began to glide across the surface of the water. "We made it! Mayday, we-"

"_Oh no you don't_!"

_Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!  
_

A high-pitched shriek split the air and I felt something wrap around my leg like a tentacle. I choked as something jerked me backwards. I was suddenly flying away from the plane, sailing back towards the platform.

I crashed against the grating and scrambled to my feet. Something clamped around my shoulders and spun me around.

I gasped. Black Widow was there, her face inches from mine, two-inch fangs bared. "_Give me that_!"

I didn't think, I only swung my left arm around and smashed my elbow against her head. Black Widow's grip loosened and I tore away. The plane was pulling away from the dock, too far to jump...

Dad was yelling, pounding against the side of the plane, screaming over the howling wind, "Doc! Go back! Stop! _Stop_!"

Doc couldn't hear over the wind. I saw Dad turn back towards me. He was going to jump, to risk it... "Dad! Don't!"

I ran forward, pulled my arm back and hurled the flask with all my strength towards the plane. I saw Dad shoot a web line and snatch it out of the air. He pointed his other arm towards me, about to pull me up...

The ocean raged around it as the plane's skis lifted off the surface. Lightning crackled, reflecting off the rising seaplane and illuminating, for a second, the look of absolute horror on Dad's face.

"Mayday! _Noooooooo_!"

I stood there, on the platform, frozen, watching the plane vanish into the howling night. The antidote. We had gotten the antidote, and Dad was safe. That was all that mattered.

"No!"

Suddenly Black Widow was up, surging past me to the edge of the dock and stretching out her arms in a desperate, futile reach.

"Core implosion estimated in four minutes."

I closed my eyes, feeling nothing but a cold emptiness. Frigid rain pounded against me. Duty. My duty. I had done it.

Spider-Girl had done her duty.

And she was going to die.

"_You_."

I heard a faint whisper, somehow audible over the storm. I opened my eyes. Black Widow was slowly turning away from the ocean, turning to look at me.

"You. You've done this. You sneaked in here, you sabotaged everything...everything I've worked for...you're the one responsible. You."

I stared back at her. "And you. You stole my father. You punished him for something that he didn't do. You took his memory and left him wandering the streets. You."

I took a step forward and hissed, "You're the reason that my mother has cried herself to sleep every night for the past five years. You made my brother grow up without a father. You tried to destroy my family. You." We stood, glaring balefully at each other. That feeling was bubbling up again, that cold emptiness filling with the anger. The rage. I couldn't quell it; I didn't try.

"Core implosion estimated in three minutes, forty seconds."

Then Black Widow sprang.

I bent backwards as her claws tore the air over my face. I landed hard on my back, drew back my feet and kicked upwards. She screamed.

I bounded to my feet. Black Widow was bent double, clutching her side. I had hit her wound. She stumbled, then straightened, tossing something contemptuously to the grating. A bullet glinted in the lightning.

"Do you honestly think that a little thing like that could hurt me, Mayday?" Black Widow asked. "Your friend's bullet might have slowed me down, but did you think I was gone for good?"

"Core implosion estimated in three minutes, twenty seconds."

I reached up with my good hand and pulled of my mask. I stretched it and wound it around my broken hand, pulling it as tight as I could to immobilize the bones. The wind whipped my hair. I didn't care that she saw my face. She knew who I was. Even if she hadn't, what did it matter now?

"In a few minutes we're both going to be gone for good, Garcia."

Black Widow smirked. "Maybe you will be." I saw her eyes flick upwards, over my head, when I heard it. Over the crash of the waves, the buzz of propellers. I spun around.

The plane was coming back! It was soaring over the ocean, rocking in the wind and flying low, straight for the rig.

"As I said," said Black Widow. "One of us will be staying behind."

I could see the plane coming closer and closer. Doc was going to steer it right over the platform. Black Widow was going to escape!

"Core implosion estimated in three minutes."

She had raised her arms towards the plane. Her fingers were just beginning to turn inward when I tackled her. We both crashed to the floor. The plane's skis blew past overhead as it soared back over the ocean.

"No!" Black Widow reached over her shoulder and flung me off. I hit the wall of the building, polished to a mirror-bright sheen from the rain.

"Core implosion estimated in two minutes, forty seconds."

I stumbled to me feet, my head spinning. Black Widow bounded from the platform and landed against the side of the building, wallcrawling effortlessly up to the roof. Ignoring the pain, I followed, scrambling after her. Rain blurred my vision and my damp hair whipped in my face.

In the distance, I saw the plane bank in a wide arc and turn, back towards the rig. Black Widow was going to jump aboard, to hijack it...

"Core implosion estimated in two minutes, thirty seconds."

"Stop running," I screamed. "You coward!"

Black Widow stopped in her tracks and turned slowly. "That's the second time you've called me a coward, Parker."

My voice rose as I spoke, cresendoing into a shout of utter rage. I had never heard my own voice sound that way before, but I didn't care. Lightning seared the air over our heads.

"You keep running! Come back and face me, Black Widow! Or are you afraid of me? I think you are! And I know why!" I screamed, "I'm facing you, Garcia! You always stab people in the back!"

Black Widow launched herself at me, roaring, her claws whirling. I ducked out of their way, my spider-sense firing my muscles faster than my brain could plan. I threw myself at her, swinging with both hands and kicking with all of my strength, not caring if she clawed me or even killed me. This would end now. After all she had done, I was not going to let her leave this rig.

"Core implosion estimated in two minutes."

Even if it meant that I wouldn't be leaving, either.

One of Black Widow's fists crashed into my face and I felt myself falling. My back slammed against steel. I tasted blood in my mouth. The world turned black as Black Widow's six hands slammed me down again, pinning me to the roof.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Black Widow hissed in my face. "Eavesdropping, sneaking around."

I couldn't move. In a rainy fog, I saw the plane swoop by again. They couldn't see us from the wind and the rain. Black Widow's grip on my neck tightened.

"Core implosion estimated in one minute, forty seconds."

"You think you're so smart." Black Widow snorted. "You don't understand, do you, Mayday Parker? I've known who you were since you were a ten-year-old brat playing marbles at Queens Borough. I know where you live. I know every single member of your family. I know your friends. You think it was a coincidence that I taught at your high school? I knew it was you when you saved the people in my helicopter crash."

"Core implosion estimated in one minute, thirty seconds."

I felt the color drain from my face. The world was going dark around me. My lungs were burning. I struggled, trying to thrash, to throw her off...

Black Widow's mouth stretched into a hideous grin. "Surprised? Yes, I tampered with that chopper before it took off. I knew that you had inherited the powers, when your coach so kindly informed me at school of your mysterious illness. I wanted to see if you'd try to play the hero. You know..." She laughed softly. "You would have lived much longer if you hadn't."

"Core implosion estimated in one minute, twenty seconds."

I felt the strength draining from my body. I had no air. She was strangling me, ever tightening her grip. She was going to break my neck. I gagged, struggling for one breath, one gasp of air. Rain pounded my face. My eyelids closed.

"It's such a pity, Mayday. You were such a good student."

"Core implosion estimated in one minute, ten seconds."

Black Widow's fingers tensed around my throat. One sharp squeeze and my neck would snap.

I could hear the smile in her voice. "I think I'll make a little stop in Queens. Maybe to send your mother and brother after you. I believe in clean jobs, Mayday. But I'm not sure how yet. Hmmm...I think a nice little swim in the East River should do it. Let's see. Who should go first? That sweet little boy? That way he won't have to see his mother tossed off the bridge. I don't want to scar him." Rage. Hatred. Monster. You monster. You evil—

"Core implosion estimated in sixty seconds."

"As it is..." Black Widow said, "Goodbye, Spider-Girl."

_No_!

My arms snapped up, a strength coursing through my muscles that I didn't know I possessed. A strength that sent me clamping both hands around Black Widow's wrists and hurling her off me, twenty feet to skid across the roof. A strength that propelled me up, charging forward as she staggered to her feet and smashing my fist into her head. I somersaulted over her head, grasped her shoulders and flung her away across the roof.

"Core implosion estimated in forty seconds."

Black Widow was up again, shooting six jets of web. One twined around my arm and pulled me off my feet. I twisted and rolled, grabbing the edge of the webline and wrenching. Black Widow went down.

"Core implosion estimated in thirty seconds."

In a flash of lightning I saw the seaplane banking again, shaking in the air. It was still coming back, still trying to rescue me from the time bomb ticking below.

I landed my back against the metal wall that rose from the roof. Black Widow was twenty feet away, on her knees, holding her side, not rising.

"Get up!" I snarled.

She raised her head and stared at me. Black blood trickled from forehead. Then she started to laugh.

It was a laugh that didn't fit her appearance, high-pitched, rollicking laugh, her face twisted in a rictuslike grin. A clawed hand raised to point directly at me.

"Look at yourself!" Black Widow cackled, stabbing her finger towards my face. "You, with all of your moralizing and sanctimonious heroism! Turn around and look at yourself!"

"What?" I roared. "Get up, Black Widow!"

"Look! Are you afraid? Look!" She was pointing past me, at the metal wall of the rig. Another burst of hysterical laughter, as if she found real mirth in what she saw. "_Look_!"

"Core implosion estimated in twenty seconds."

I turned. Behind me was the metal wall, gray and shining with rain. Bolts of lightning split the air, and I saw a reflection on the rain-slick wall.

The face of Hobgoblin stared back at me.

I gasped, and the image was gone. I saw only myself, Mayday, in a tattered costume, battered, bruised, wide-eyed, blood trickling down the side of my face.

The face that I had seen had seemed barely human, so twisted and contorted with rage that it wasn't recognizable. Eyes that had burned, teeth bared, lips curled in an animal snarl. A face ugly with hatred.

I hadn't seen a goblin.

I had seen myself.

"Warning! Nineteen seconds remaining."

I turned around, backing away from the reflection in horror. The plane was still coming, less than a thousand feet away. Still coming. It would fly straight into the explosion.

Black Widow was on her feet again, charging at me like a bull. I dodged as a fist punched a crater in the steel wall behind me.

"Eighteen...seventeen..."

The plane was coming closer, and closer, about to sweep over the roof again. I lunged forward and shoved Black Widow away. "Sixteen...fifteen...fourteen..."

Black Widow roared and came at me again, slashing wildly. I leaped out of the way. The plane was only a hundred feet away, flying low, straight for the roof.

"Thirteen...twelve...eleven...ten seconds remaining."

I ducked under another blow and bounded over her head, behind her. The plane was fifty feet away...forty...thirty...

"Nine...eight...seven..."

Twenty feet...ten...

"Six...five...four..."

Then the plane was there, soaring over the roof, over my head. I turned and ran, sprinting. It was ahead of me...going too fast...and Black Widow was running...running for the plane...

"Three...two..."

I reached the edge of the roof and leaped, shooting web from both wrists...

"One..."

My arms jerked over my head and I was soaring through the air as the night lit up in a supernova of light and a tremendous roar of sound and fire, pulled by two lines of web attached to the tail fin of a speeding seaplane. An enormous fireball belched from the rig, mushroom-shaped like the cloud of a nuclear explosion. Glass shattered and metal screamed as the supports collapsed under it, melted by the infernal heat. Another explosion sent twenty-foot waves sweeping away as the rig collapsed like a child's tent, pylons buckling like clay as it fell, crashing into the storm-swept ocean and sinking. Shards of metal flew through the air like knives as the rig sank, its mysterious evil disappearing forever into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.

The plane rocked in the air, pitching and diving in the shockwave. I shut my eyes and hung onto the weblines, ignoring the pain in my hand as I gripped. The strength was draining away, replaced only by a mind-numbing weariness, total exhaustion. Slowly, I reached up and pulled myself up, hand over hand, until I felt the cold metal of the ski under my fingers. I wrapped my arms around it and hung, eyes closed. It was over...it was over.

Tired...so tired...

_DANGER_!

"Mayday!"

My eyes snapped open. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as my spider- sense screeched a warning, howling in alarm.

"Mayday! Please!"

My heart leaped into my throat. There was someone else on the outside of the plane, hanging onto the end of the ski. It was a woman, about Mom's age, with black hair and wearing a strange, black costume that was much to large for her.

"Mayday!" Ms. Garcia, Black Widow, screamed. I saw her fingers sliding across the metal; her human fingertips didn't grip. She was about to fall.

"Help me, Mayday! Please, for the love of God, _help me_!"

I stared at her, but who was I staring at? Black Widow? Or Elaine Garcia? She stared back at me with human eyes, a human face pale with desperation. She stretched out her hand.

"_Please_!"

The person who had kidnapped my father, threatened to kill my family, let Hobgoblin return and destroy Harry from the inside out...

The monster who had endangered thousands of lives, who was working for someone with plans too horrible to conceive...

Black Widow was begging me for help.

I could save her...but she had to be stopped...

But she was begging for help...but this could be a trick...

_But she was begging for help..._

I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her up onto the ski. I spoke over the storm; I knew she could hear me.

"I'll let a jury decide what happens to you."

"Thank you, Mayday," Garcia sobbed. "Thank you..._so very much_!"

"_Aaaaaaaaahhh_!"

Her fingers clenched shut around my wrist, and Ms. Garcia wrenched, swinging me off the ski. I gasped as a spray of seawater hit me in the face. I looked up, aghast, dangling ten feet above the brine.

Garcia was grinning, and I saw the blaze of Black Widow's arachnid eyes through her human facade. I felt her grip loosen; she was going to drop me.

_Mayday, you fool! You idiot_! I thought, anger at myself blending with my terror.

"Well, Mayday," Garcia, Black Widow called. "I hope you've learned something from all of this!"

"Yeah, I did," I choked out.

"What? Never help your enemy?" Garcia mocked.

"No," I shouted. "I learned something else."

I tightened my grip on Garcia's wrist and screamed over the wind.

_  
"Spiders can't swim!"_

I swung my other arm up, shot a line of web at the hull of the plane, clamped my fingers around Garcia's wrist and pulled as hard as I could.

There was a wordless scream as Garcia fell, fell into the churning sea, as Black Widow disappeared under the waves. She was gone.

I found that I was weeping.

Tears were streaming down my face. What had I just done? _What had I just done_?

I dangled there, tears mingling with the salt and the rain, without the slightest dregs of energy left in me. I felt a tug on the line. If it was ripping free of the plane, I didn't know. I couldn't have saved myself if I tried.

There was another tug, and then someone was pulling me up and onto the ski, hugging me.

"Mayday...it's okay...it's okay...it's over..." Dad repeated, as if he were comforting a young child woken from a nightmare.

"Dad...I...I..." I stammered.

"I saw. It's okay, Mayday...you didn't have a choice...and she had to be stopped...it's okay...it's okay...it's over..."

"But...but I..."

"Do you want proof?" Dad asked.

"Huh?" I looked up and saw him smiling.

"Look." He turned and pointed to the east, from the direction we had just come.

The waves were calmer, the sky less black. In the distance, far in the distance, the winter sky was clear, and tinged with the glow of the rising sun.

I turned back to Dad.

"Dad..." I said, my voice breaking, "Let's go home."


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight: Hero

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dad and I climbed back inside the plane. He pulled the door shut behind us. The inside was lit by a few emergency lights. Harry, still in his armor, lay across two seats, his arm dangling limply.

"Doc!" I called. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" I saw him turn around in his seat and look back into the cabin. It was the first time I had seen him smile. "You did it, Sp...Mayday."

"Yeah," I sighed. "But it's not over yet. Dad, the antidote..."

"Got it here." Dad picked up the flask and handed it to me. I stepped over to Harry and set the antidote down on the seat. With my good hand, I pulled his helmet off his head.

Harry was a sickly gray; the light cast a ghostly pallor over his features. His hair was thick with drying blood, and his face was black and blue. Both lips were split. His mouth was slightly open.

Dad grimaced. "I did that."

"You had to. It was Hobgoblin." I fumbled one-handedly with the stopper of the flask. Dad reached over and opened it for me.

Harry's breathing was ragged. I put the flask to his lips and titled it, pouring the amber liquid into his mouth.

We stood there, watching tensely. Harry lay on the seats, looking as battered as ever. He coughed slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. He jerked. "You stay away from her! You're not getting me again, you-- "

"Harry! Harry! It's okay!" I grabbed his shoulder. Harry stared at me, his face white. "Hobgoblin...Black Widow..."

"They're gone. They're both gone. We just gave you the antidote. It's okay," I said. "Garcia's gone."

Harry blinked at me. "Garcia?"

"Yeah. Black Widow was Ms. Garcia."

Harry gaped at me. "The chemistry teacher?"

"Your _chemistry teacher_?" Dad gasped. "Oh, jeeze..."

"Oh, sorry...Dad, this is my friend Harry Osborn. Harry, this is my dad, Peter Parker."

There was a silence. At first I didn't realize what was causing it, until Harry said, "Mr. Parker...I'm sorry."

Dad waved it away. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes...it was," Harry grunted, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I blamed you. For what happened seven years ago. I hated you."

He grimaced, as if confessing to a horrible crime. "I _wanted_ revenge."

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have believed any different. There's nothing to forgive," Dad said. "You are not Hobgoblin, Harry. And you never have to be. _You_ choose who you are."

Harry shook his head mutely, then sucked his breath in with a hiss. "My...head..."

"It's okay. Just lie back down," I said.

Harry smiled at me. "You did it...Spider-Girl."

"Oh, not really," I muttered. "And the name's Mayday."

I saw Dad glancing between us quickly.

"You know, I, uh...I'd better go see how the plane's handling." Dad said awkwardly, climbing over the seats and into the cockpit. I could fell myself turning red. What did Dad think, that Harry and I were, well, more than just...friends?

"Dad!" I called, "It's okay, you don't have to go anywhere!"

I could have sworn I heard him mutter, "Damn, I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"_Dad_!"

The cabin door shut behind him with a click.

I didn't think I'd ever blushed so deeply in my life. "Dad!" I yelled, burning with embarrassment. "Seriously! I have absolutely no objection to your staying! None whatsoever! You can sit right here! Dad! Dad, are you listening?"

"Mayday, my head hurts bad enough without all the shouting," Harry said weakly.

"Oh, uh, sorry," I mumbled. I fidgeted with the binding on my hand. I tried to ignore the pain.

Harry coughed. "Mayday, I, um, yeah...I just wanted to say..."

"What?"

Harry smiled his lopsided smile, but it was weak. "Thanks, Mayday. You saved my life."

"Oh, um, you're welcome," I muttered, then mentally kicked myself. Why couldn't I come up with a better response than that?

The plane shuddered through an area of turbulence. There was silence. What was there to talk about? I was wrung out, exhausted, trying to block the events of the night from my mind. I didn't want to think about them. The knot in my chest had just begun to loosen.

Black Widow was gone. Gone forever. The rig was completely destroyed.  
"I know you're thinking about it, Mayday," Harry said. "And don't. It's over."

I said, "It's over." The words felt alien on my tongue. "It's all over."

There seemed to be a catharsis in those words. Over, over, over. The ordeal was over. All of the fear, all of the sadness, and all of the anger...they were ghosts, half-remembered blurs.

Except for Garcia's face, laughing at me...

"And," said Harry, "You found your dad." He shut his eyes, grimacing in pain. "Hurts...to breathe."

"Shh," I said. "It's okay. Don't talk. We're getting you help. Don't worry."

Harry's fingers brushed mine. His face was ashen. "Mayday...about...it all..."

Harry whispered, "God, Mayday..._I'm so sorry_."

"It's not your fault."

"It is. If I wasn't such an idiot none of this would have happened. I- "

A harsh, racking cough shook him, and a trickle of blood dribbled from the side of his mouth. He lay back limply. I grabbed his hand. "Harry? Harry!"

Harry's eyes were closed. He didn't answer.

I reached for his neck, feeling frantically for his pulse. For a moment I felt nothing. "Harry!"

Then, there it was. He was alive. He'd only fainted. I let out my breath in a whoosh, sitting down on the floor next to him, still holding his hand.

There isn't much left to tell.

We landed on Roosevelt Island about an hour later. It was foggy enough for Doc to steer the plane into the river without notice. Afterwards, Dad tore open the hull of the plane. The last vestige of the rig sank beneath the water on a lonely island in New York.

Doc had to get to his house on Staten Island. He couldn't be connected with anything that went on. He reluctantly took the ferry back.

Harry had to get to a hospital. We hid his armor in a warehouse on the island. He had a T-shirt and jeans on under it, but no shoes. We weren't even going to try to explain it.

In the early hours of December twenty-fourth, Dad and I webswung with Harry to the roof of Manhattan General. Dad couldn't go in; he had not way to disguise himself. So I unbound my hand and pulled my mask back on, picking up Harry, still unconscious. Golden winter sunlight slanted across the graveled roof.

"What's wrong?" Dad said once we had landed. I was carrying Harry.

I swallowed. "I'm not the most popular person in New York."

Dad nodded. "Does it have to do with a certain newspaper executive?"

"Yeah, partly. But...people have been blaming me for the disasters that have been going on. If I walk in there..." I trailed off.

"I'll take him. I'll make up some story..."

"No, Dad, it's okay. I've got to do it."

"Good luck, Mayday."

I forced a smile, then stepped off the side of the building to the sidewalk below. In my costume, tattered, bruised and filthy, I walked straight through the doors of the hospital.

It was crowded, noisy, and bright. People in wheelchairs, others on crutches, people talking and arguing with doctors and nurses. I walked in, as Spider-Girl, carrying Harry.

All of a sudden, there was total silence. Every head in the room turned to gawk at me. Jaws dropped.

"Spider-Girl! It's Spider-Girl!"

"What's _she_ doing in here?"

"This guy needs a doctor. Now!" I said. "He's Harry Osborn."

One of the nurses, a formidable middle-aged woman in a perfectly starched uniform stepped forward. "_He's_ Harry Osborn? The kid who inherited the billion dollars?"

"Yes, he is! He was kidnapped by Hobgoblin," I shouted, so that the whole room could hear. Well, that part was a half-truth. "Something about a ransom. He's hurt bad."

That got their attention. One of the orderlies started yelling into a walkie-talkie. Nurses and other orderlies swarmed around us, putting Harry on a stretcher they seemed to have pulled out of thin air. They took his pulse, checked his blood pressure, all in the waiting room.

"He's got at least two broken ribs, looks like one of the floaters."

"Possible a skull fracture, and looks like multiple fracture of the left radius."

"We've got to get him to an MRI. Make sure there's no internal bleeding."

"Is he going to be all right? Hey, you!" I yelled. "Will someone answer me?"

One of the doctors, a young man in scrubs, turned to me, looking as if a rock had just spoken. "Well...uh...Spider-Girl," he said nervously. "It just looks like some broken bones for now. He took some pretty good hits. We'll have to wait and see, but I'll bet that after a few days in recovery he'll be fine."

"Let's get him up to radiology," another doctor, this one in a white coat, yelled over the din. And then Harry was gone, ashen-faced and unconscious, into an elevator, surrounded by doctors and nurses who didn't look back. Everyone kept staring at me, nudging each other and whispering. I felt my face turning red under my mask. "I'll...I'll just go now."

"Spider-Girl?" A thin voice spoke from behind me. I turned around. It was an elderly woman, leaning on a cane, even smaller than I was. She had white hair that hung around her head like a cloud, and brown eyes that looked strikingly bright in so aged a face. She was leaning on the arm of a black-haired man, maybe thirty. I narrowed my eyes. I was sure I had seen him before, but where?

"Spider-Girl," the old woman said.

"That's me, ma'am," I said uncertainly.

"I've been hearing a lot of stuff about you. Reading it in the papers, too. That you've been wrecking trains and such."

I sighed, and didn't answer. Of course everyone believed what Jameson wrote about me, about Spider-Girl.

"I've heard it all," the woman said, staring straight into my eyes. "And I don't believe a word of it."

I blinked. "You...you don't?"

"I don't," she said. "Because I can't believe that a girl who would do things like that would risk her life to save my grandson."

"I...I..." I stuttered, totally befuddled.

The man, her grandson, smiled at me. "You remember? Jack Nguyen. Helicopter pilot. Never had a flight quite like that."

"The bridge! You were one of the pilots," I said, astonished.

The old woman stepped forwards, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking me in the face. "You save lives, girl. That's what you do. Even if you had only saved one person, like my grandson or that boy that was just here, that makes you a hero. You care about us. You risk your life so that others can live. You are a hero, Spider-Girl. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

The old woman stepped back, leaning on her came. Her grandson, Jack Ngyuen, grinning, raised his hands and started to clap.

I felt my face getting even redder. Then someone else started to clap, from the crowd waiting in the lobby. She stood up, clapping loudly. The man next to her got to his feet, too, clapping and smiling.

I stood, wide-eyed, as men and women, little kids and teenagers, stood up and started clapping, until I was surrounded by a swarm of cheering people. A crowd of paramedics shouldered through the crowd. "If it weren't for her, we would've never gotten those guys out of the subway. She dug them out of the wreck."

My mouth was open. These people were clapping and cheering...for me?

Even the doctors were clapping and smiling. Someone, I think she was a doctor, tried to shake my hand, and I flinched.

She took a step backwards. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said through gritted teeth. "My hand's just a little messed up."

"That's more than a little. Let me see that," she said, and before I could stop her she had pulled my glove off.

I grimaced at the sight of my hand. It was red and swollen, and it hurt to move my fingers.

"Looks like a couple of fractured metacarpals. You'll definitely need a cast on that."

I tried unsuccessfully to pull away. "I'll be fine. I can heal...well, pretty quickly."

The doctor raised her eyebrow. "Unless you want it to heal crooked, you're going to need a split at least. Hey, guys! Brian! Jim!"

Two of the paramedics looked up.

"You guys think you could get a splint on this young lady's hand?"

"Oh, no, seriously, I'm okay!" I protested. "I can't pay for this..."

The first paramedic grinned, set his bag down on the information desk and said, "Let's say it's for your help on the subway. We'll call it even. Now let's see what we can do for that hand of yours."

Twenty minutes later Dad and I were at the end of the sidewalk of the little townhouse in Queens. I had found another set of emergency clothes hidden in a Midtown alley, and I was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, with a neatly splinted right hand. Dad was still in his guard coveralls. Yellow rays of sunlight silhouetted the house from behind.

"Where's the spare key?" Dad asked.

"Where it's always been," I said. I walked over and lifted the front mat, picking up the key and handing it to him. He held it an inch from the keyhole, hesitating.

I smiled, feeling a prickling in the corners of my eyes. "Go ahead, Daddy."

Dad pushed the key into the lock and turned it. The door creaked open into the front hall. Old, worn rug, pictures on the wall, a tall wicker basket full of umbrellas. A stairway polished smooth by years of sliding.

Home.

I shut the door behind us. The line of Dad's mouth was quivering as he looked around. "It's the same..."

I stepped forward a bit and peered around the doorframe into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table, her head in her hands. She was asleep. I watched her for a moment, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. She must have been up all night, waiting for me.

"Mom?" I whispered.

She stirred, blinking blearily in the morning sunlight. "Mayday!"

She shoved her chair away from the table and leaped up, throwing her arms around me. "May! Benny told me...I thought I'd never see you again!"

I hugged her back, biting my lip. "I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry...but..." I pulled away. "I brought someone back."

I turned around as Dad stepped into view in the doorway. "MJ?" he said.

Mom's mouth opened. Her face was white, her eyes wide. She stared, as pale as if she had seen a ghost. Dad stared back, his eyes glistening. "Peter?" she whispered.

Then her face lit up with a joy that years had buried under layers of worry and time. "Oh, _Peter_!"

Mom rushed forward, limping on her cast as Dad threw his arms around her, saying over and over, tears streaming down his face. "I love you, MJ. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you."

I knew I was crying too, when Dad reached out and pulled me into their hug. Mom grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks, laughing through tears.

"What's all the noise? It's like what, six?" A small voice spoke from the top pf the stairs, and Benny Parker was there on the stairs, blinking sleepily down at us.

"Ben? Is that you?" Dad asked, seeing the boy who he knew as a smiling, chubby toddler now eight years old.

Benny narrowed his eyes and frowned curiously at us. Then his eyes flew open. "_Dad_?"

I nodded behind his back, feeling a grin crease my face. A real smile.

"Dad!" Benny vaulted over the banister and tumbled into us, throwing his arms around Dad. "You came back!"

I was pulled into another hug, and the Parker family stood in the kitchen on the morning of Christmas Eve, the house filled with a joy that nothing else could ever match.


	29. Epilogue

Epilogue

I guess you might be asking about loose ends. I can tell you about a few, to give you some peace of mind. But as for some others...

You'll just have to spin the stories yourself.

I can tell you that Grandma Watson arrived that very same day, took one look at Dad and slapped him across the face, shouting, "Peter Parker, how _dare_ you stand there smiling after what you've put us through!" Then she threw her arms around him in a bear hug.

I can tell you that Harry Osborn was out of the hospital in two days, with doctors marveling over his incredible recovery and his Aunt Beth crying and hugging him and refusing to let him out of her sight. He's been spending a lot of time in his basement workshop lately. When I asked him what he was up to, he shrugged and said, "You'll see it when it's done."

I can tell you that Mom is back on her feet and happier than I've ever seen her, and has been promoted to chief technician at her store. I can tell you that Dad is planning to turn in a permanent resignation to the Daily Bugle. "I'm not working for any paper that insults my daughter," he said a few days ago. "Besides, I've got an idea for another job in mind..."

I can tell you that Dr. Robert Hiller quit his job at Quest Aerospace as soon as he returned and has just gotten a place as a physician at Manhattan General Hospital.

I can tell you that the news reported that the Coast Guard was sent out on Christmas Eve to investigate a giant explosion somewhere near Nantucket, but that nothing was ever found.

I can tell you that Midtown High School has a new chemistry teacher, but I try not to think about the old one.

I guess there are some things I still have to work out.

I hope that people can feel safer in this city. Not from super- powered villains, but from the ordinary worries of walking down the block at night. When something goes wrong, don't be afraid, because I'll be there.

Spider-Girl's always watching.

Many stories end with a happily ever after. I'm not sure about this. After all, something's bound to come up sooner or later. But I'm not worried. If something happens, I'll face it. No, we'll face it. The Parkers stick together. Peter, Mary Jane, Ben, and Mayday.

I wonder sometimes about the whole 'family business'. It's true what they say; I really am just a kid. Just a fifteen-year-old girl with an unusual gift. Some say I'm not old enough to make a decision like this.

All I know is that, whatever I become, it'll be what I choose to be. And I think it might have something to do with webswinging.

That's the way it goes with these family things.


End file.
